


There's Silence and Then There's Distance

by IronPanda



Series: No Stop Signs or Speed Limits- Just a Straight Shot Down. [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Ambiguous hints of Nori/Bilbo, An attempt to turn the whole journey into a race course, Angst and Humor, Bar fights, Bilbo is a great story teller after a couple drinks, Dori drinks tea and kicks ass and he's all out of tea, Eventual BAMF!Bilbo, He is also just a bit sassy, Kidnapping, M/M, Modern AU, Motorcycle!AU, Multi, Nori likes to break and enter, Slow Build, The Company is a Motorcycle Gang, Vespas can be badass, and the author just realized this, bagginshield, but regrets nothing, maybe just maybe this is a little insane, street racing is not a normal vocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPanda/pseuds/IronPanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is a 28 year old retired Vespa Racer. He works at his cousin's diner, rides his scooter daily, and reads contemporary novels.</p><p>That is until he meets the Erebor Riders. Then life becomes a little less about predictability, and a little more about bad choices.</p><p>A Modern AU Where The Company is a dishonored motorcycle gang, and Bilbo is their appointed spare racer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pastel Green

**Author's Note:**

> So one day I was driving with a friend, and a biker gang just happened to pass by, all with long beards and impressive statures. I thought they would make good dwarves, and then it all spiraled from there. 
> 
> So here we are with the Prologue.  
> 

**Pastel Green**

 

The street was rather empty for six in the evening. Not a soul down the shops because in Shire Lane people went away early. So Bilbo himself could be found closing up shop for his boss. The straw colored curls were a mass atop his head and wisped gently in the breeze. Attached to a grey street post was his pride and joy; his pastel green Vespa, shiny and looking new, with just a little extra turbo for going a bit over the average street limit for the Shire neighborhood. The cream colored seats were spotless, and matched the helmet he just put on, as we're his gleaming metal footrests.

The twenty eight year old was excited to get home more than most his age. He had food waiting for him, a nice town home left by his parents, and he was currently in the midst of reading a new contemporary novel. 

While starting up his scooter he checked his phone one last time to make sure he wasn't a minute too late before starting off on the smooth grey roads.

Hardly anyone drove around here and even less of them drove more than the 35 mile per hour speed limit so Bilbo was used to being one of the few on the streets, and to keeping to the speed limit directed.

He had begun to hum to himself when he heard it. The roars. It nearly startled him off his seat that collective scream of engines. 

The young man was just crossing the major road of Bree Street, that led to its namesake city, when he was surrounded by motorcycles. They were coming along quite fast with their classic metallic frames. And there was a red light. Bilbo was in the front, hands frozen to the handles of his Vespa. Not daring to look at the humming vehicles that sat next to him, more than one in a lane, which was clearly illegal! 

Curiosity won(because those bikes must be magnificent specimens), oh darn his Tookish tendencies(He often blamed the wild half of his family for his non-socially acceptable habits). He looked from side to side just as one rather monstrous motorcycle pulled up next to him. None of them were wearing a helmet, and what strange people, each bike had something as different as the rider himself.

The one next to him was large, muscular, and bald with a long beard down the front of his crisp white shirt. There were tattoos on his head. On his head. He looked down at Bilbo with a side-glance; and the blonde gulped quickly looking the opposite way at two more- sporty bikes.

Big mistake for the driver next to him, a young ruffian with long wild brown locks gave him a rather disarming smile and waved; and the blond next to him merely glanced over with a mischievous smirk. He looked straight ahead. This was the longest light he's ever sat at. The rumbles were all around him like a stampede, he wanted to sink lower into Myrtle, his poor baby probably being tainted by the exhaust fumes of the tailpipes around him.

Another bike crept up by him, it was almost their turn to go, and this one had a midnight blue accent. The rider squeezed through, and right in front of him, Bilbo only had the glimpse of the back of the rude driver who just skipped him. Long black locks and a matching leather jacket as the rest. The lettering on the back said Erebor Riders in a curved arc over the image of a mountain outline and a strange stone resting in the middle. Bilbo cocked his head to the side before it clicked.

He was surrounded by a gang. And one of their members just skipped him when he should clearly wait his turn. He glared as powerful as his Tookish blood could let him because rudeness would just not be tolerated and he was considering working up the nerve to pull up next to the driver when the light turned green.

His head spun and he felt nauseous and the sound of a hundred gas pedals and bellowing engines rose around him. It raised the hairs on his head and caused him to release a squeak of surprise. They all zoomed by at an unnatural speed clearly not the speed limit, so many of them it seemed never ending.

He watched until they were all ahead stacked up in the three lanes. Had to have been at least ten of them. All with matching jackets and a strange variety of hair, all of them rather large.

Bilbo realized he had yet to move, his mouth slack and frame trembling. Slowly he had Myrtle push along.

He was going to go home, and enjoy a nice bowl of hot soup, and hope that it was just a traveling caravan that he would never have to encounter again.

The hair on the back of his neck was still tingling when he reached his small one lane street of Bag End. He was still mulling over what he had just witnessed when he pulled up in his driveway. He got off Myrtle and removed his helmet before he realized it all.

There was an unfamiliar car parked in his driveway. A classic all white car, it seemed an old 1950s Cadillac Coupe De Ville, with a bit of silver trimming. There was at all, thin elderly man dressed rather smart in a grey suit, and with a brown enviable pipe. He raised a thick grey eyebrow at Bilbo as is assessing every fiber of his being.

The shorter man felt violated. 

"Um..Good Evening?"

"Bilbo Baggins." The man sounded amiable enough, and he nodded towards Bilbo, blue eyes looking down at him.

"Yes- Although I don't know who you are. Can I help you?"

"Hmph, well you could do a lot more if you invited me in. The son of Belladonna Took staring at me from his own driveway as if I'm a common guest trying to sell useless knickknacks at his stoop."

Bilbo sputtered. In between shame of his own manners and bewilderment. "Ah, yes, come in," He let both of them in the small two story flat, dropping his keys twice in the process, and searched for words to say to the tall man. He still didn’t know who he was; he knew my mother?

"Now um- I don't usually get guests, well ones that don't call first or send a text before visiting. Ah would you like some tea?" Bilbo could feel his cheeks dusting and he tugged at the collar of his button up.

"No thank you, I'm here with a proposition Mr. Baggins." The man was gazing at the pictures of his parents on the wall, his eyes trailed to a few medals and trophies on the foyer small table.

"A proposition?" Bilbo furrowed his brow, maybe it was a job opportunity? The older man bent his back a bit and looked Bilbo over.

"Your Vespa, it is a 2003 model is it not?"

"Yes," Bilbo drew out the word in lack of surety. "A 150 small frame class."

"The engine, you rebuilt it yourself."

Bilbo tried to stifle the shock. "Yes, Yes I did, a little hobby of mine back when I- well I just tinker with it now, I haven't done much in a few years."

"Since you're last big win of 2008 I presume."

"Well I wouldn't call a local competition a big win. How did you know-"

"Your mother informed me you had begun racing in college, much to your father's dismay, and it seems you stopped around the time of their unfortunate passing." When the older man said that Bilbo felt whatever was left from his rather comfortable lunch lurch in his stomach. 

"Mr.Baggins, I do believe you may be what I'm looking for, maybe it is time you got back in the game. Just for one last race." Bilbo's disposition changed then.

"No absolutely not, too much risk, too much gossip, I have too much to do now and I'd rather return to my novel, and anyways I am out of practice, I ride for my own leisure. I have to thank you sir for the proposition but I am quite fine without racing.Now if that is all you have come for then I have dinner to attend to and an early shift in the morning, Good evening Mr-"

The elderly man looked unperturbed though his face was as unreadable as his blue eyes. "Gandalf, it is a shame you don't remember me."

Bilbo's face softened in recognition. "Mr. Gandalf, the one who sold such excellent bike helmets, the most classic, you're still in business?" The words left his mouth before he could stop himself, and it earned him a stern look.

"Well I certainly sell more than helmets, however it is good you remember something, that makes us decent acquaintances," Mr. Gandalf reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a card handing it to Bilbo. "We can discuss this later in further detail Mr. Baggins, You will be seeing me soon."

Then the man headed towards the door just as Bilbo was reading the card.

"The Wanderers, sponsor, sponsor of what?" When he looked up his door was closed. The wheat haired man peeked between his window blinds and saw no car, not even down the street as far as he could see.

"What can we possibly discuss? I said no!" Bilbo ranted to himself as he pattered to his kitchen, turning on the soft light of the center ceiling lamp he reread the card, and then shoved it in his pocket, his mouth in a thin grim line.


	2. Blanc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo finds his home open to visitors he really doesn't want.  
> Really. He doesn't want them there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2( This is the average length of each chapter from henceforth), once again I'll update every 3-5 days. I hope this actually opens up more questions for you.  
> Oh and if you ever want a one-shot of something that is just summarized in the story, trust me I've got back stories hidden everywhere. Just shoot me a comment on pandamani.tumblr.com

Blanc

_It was a long tunnel, dark shadows crawled along the cylindrical walls and the lights trailed like glowing green fairies above him. This, this was a thrill, the handles turned and vehicle streamlined on two wheels towards the dawn. Speed was but a blessing and the world a track._

_Another tunnel under the stars, he leaned his cheek against a firm back that smelled of fresh leather with a twinge of smoke and spice oak. His arms locked around something wider than him. This is what dreams pretend to be._

Bilbo awoke on his own accord, without the usual ringing in his ears of his rather violent alarm clock. That was the first strange thing. The next strange thing was looking at the time on said clock that was on the nightstand to the right of his double bed. It said 9:00 am. He squeezed shut his soft blue eyes, and then shot the open in an instant.

"I'm late. Oh my dear god, I am late." The short man hopped out of the bed in a lighting flash, and doing a strange hop-skip to the bathroom due to the green sheets still tangled at his ankles.

He checked himself in the mirror, going through exactly what he can skip and what he must do because Baggins mustn't ever be late. It was something his father reminded him of since he could waddle. He settled for brushing his teeth, his eyes met the round face reflected in the mirror. His hair was getting wild, and there were bags under his fresh young eyes. 

Bilbo considered himself in the bathroom of his parents. There were two sinks, he used his father's, his mother's remained rather untouched, spotless, and he couldn't think if it would ever hold the items of another. If there would be someone else to- ah such trivial thoughts always came when one was brushing his teeth.

He was a respectable young man, the wild racing days behind him, just an average looking blond (soft looking as one of his mates in college told him a few years back.) he never really grew out of his twitchy baby face (and there wasn't an ounce of muscle on him, he has been meaning to use his gym membership for four months now). 

He was still Bilbo Baggins and he was late. He washed his face right quick, and tried to pat down his hair. He would have to settle for his khaki shorts and somewhat wrinkled white button up. 

Out the front door and onto Myrtle, helmet clasped safely under his chin. 

Well confound it, he forgot to have breakfast, it was going to be a miserable day to serve. He would never hear the end of it from his cousin Otho's wife. Bilbo was offered a job as baker of Sackville Diner a few years before, and he was known for his proper and decadent pastries. He took pride in being satisfactory at something he considered another hobby, cooking. It was rather easy to do, and he never had the desire to open his own store, he didn't believe he was ready for that yet, and plus it would sour relations even more with his distant cousins if he took his pies and became a sort of competition for them.

The way they saw it Bilbo had enough that he didn't deserve already. Bilbo thought he had enough to keep himself content.

The ride was warm in midday, a little sticky in his worry of reaching the diner in time, the sky was a nice powder blue that he couldn't meander over.  
The Sackville Diner lettering appeared after a few blocks, the other moniker Sackville- Baggins’ Diner was printed in white on the shiny brown door. Bilbo parked his scooter and chained it to its usual pole before running in the eatery. The door swung open and he barely had time to squeeze past the person leaving.

"Woah, ok there Mister Baggins?" said the voice of his neighbor Hamfast, the round man looked at him concern.

"Yes, ah yes, just-"

"Late." The voice he wanted to hear least finished his statement. It was a mocking tone that belongs to the stern vocal chords of one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo flinched and turned towards the speaker just as she tossed his apron at him. 

"You are late Bilbo Baggins, and by two minutes, I told Otho one with such unsatisfactory hair and standard button up shirts was not to be trusted, even with his silver spoons." She strutted over to him, short squat and round, with long brown curls and sharp blue eyes. Right to his face. And he held his ground.

"Lobelia I have never been late-"

"So this is a sign then, your being late, that you think you're too good for the diner now-" The few usuals that were sitting at their tables were now glancing over.

"I never-"

"No I see your behaviors, and if your delicious pastries did not sell so well I would have Otho fire you on the spot for such disregard of us. And for driving such a dangerous vehicle. We all know of your underlying sneak and rebel ways Bilbo Baggins, and I will be watching you much closer now." Her eyes narrowed to a menacing squint; and Bilbo sputtered, brow furrowed and indignation building inside him.

"Now Bilbo Baggins, stop losing us money and get to baking, we have a large order today. Oh and the rest of the week you are waiting as well. Dear Lotho needs a break" She turned from him before he could even speak and strutted away. It was then he realized he still had to clock in. 

"Confound her, we have a large order, I don't even-" Bilbo huffed his way to back kitchen, past Otho without a glance, and clocked in tying his apron all the while. In retribution he knew he'd take another jar of raspberry jam today, cursing her all the while.

Cheeks ablaze in anger he began with violent movements on the first batch of pies from the frozen crust dough he made the day before. He poured and spread the fillings of fresh raspberry, apples, key lime, and began what would be a banana bread pudding until the frustration began to subside.

It was lunch time when the first batch was finishing. He wiped his forehead and set an egg timer on the cramped but clean counter of his baking haven. All the counters were organized by spices and fillings, and grouped by packaging color. Bilbo let his stout fingers run over the surface of the stove.

_What was he doing here?_  
He shook his head, he hasn't got a job otherwise and until he takes a shine to something, he will do what he needs to keep the gossips at bay. His stomach rumbled and took him out of his self-wallowing. He walked over to the second drawer under the cooking utensils, and pulled it out. No lunch there.

"Huh." Oh right he didn't have time to pack. So much for hiding until his shift was over. Bilbo slunk from the back kitchen, bringing a few of the pies in their boxes while he was at it. He passed Lobelia who gave him a suspicious dirty glare.

"That's strange if you to think that you need to present yourself in the diner except for when needed. And why haven't you fixed your hair yet?"  
Bilbo rolled his eyes, his back to her. "Where would you like me to put these?" 

"Like I care." She snapped. Oh but she did care and she would tell him later, but for now he put them on the back counter and walked to the 'public'. The brown booths of the diner were decently filled at lunch time, and there were quite a few who had slices of pies in front of them. He scurried out of the diner to find the nearest place to eat lunch that wouldn't accuse him of being a freeloader. 

He swore he saw a man with one of those biker jackets from earlier with that recent order of pies.

\-------------

The sky had pinked like a grapefruit, with orange bleeding in it underneath the clouds by the time he had left the diner. Bilbo snapped his helmet on his head, the time was later than he was used to but he had some interesting orders, and for reason unknown to him the restaurant seemed busier than usual. They needed many loaves of bread and Lobelia was driving him insane with her demands for tarts, cookies, and brownies as if they were a legit bakery. The nerve of that woman, one day Bilbo was going to give her a piece of his mind.

Nothing strange was happening in the streets this time, despite the later hour he left, and Bilbo felt some twist in his heart. It was faint and insignificant, but still there. A part of him maybe- he absently traced a finger over Myrtle's Speedometer, the blare of a horn played in his memories. He could smell the asphalt again, and the speed twice that or more of what he goes normally. His heart beating wild, throbbing against his ribcage at each turn. The calculations he used to make, between each competitor and just how he would have to time every move he made. 

"Go home Bilbo Baggins before I sue you for disturbing my eye sight." Lobelia's voice cracked through him and she was looking down upon him as if he was a piece of- "Now."

"Good night." He mumbled under his breath at habit and drove off into the streets, maybe, just maybe going ten miles over the speed limit. 

He took the long route to his street, enjoying the drive for the first time in a while.

Bilbo's home was warm and quiet. He turned on a low selection of music from his laptop and began dinner. It would seem to be a large selection of lasagna would be best, to save over the next few days. He poured in the chunks of dark red sauce over the steaming layers of noodles. Then he heard a sort of guilty pleasure song come on. His mother used to swear she would have left Bungo for Billy Idol. Bilbo began a little shake of his hips, feeling daring enough with his curtains closed.

Mr. Gandalf's card on his granite counter top next to the tomato bloodied cutting board.

He put the lasagna in the oven. There was a heavy knock at his door. Strange that someone would come and visit him, he stopped getting visits from family except during very important holidays, and his parents friends stopped even sooner than that. 

The knocking starting again. Forgetting himself Bilbo left his music on in a hurry to answer the door. "Coming, coming, oh bother." Maybe it was Mr. Gandalf agai-

"Dwalin Fundinson." The biker from the day before, with tattoos on his head was looming over him."You Mr. Baggins?"

"Ye-Yes," His voice was high pitched against his will, but the man had a deep set brow and a grim expression. His biceps must have been larger than Bilbo's head, and he just screamed dangerous stereotypical biker- hoodlum- thug- disturber of peace. The man took Bilbo's answer as an invitation to walk in. The man's large black Doc Marten's were scuffed and out of place atop of Bilbo's little gold mat with a fat owl on it.

"This where we can put the food laddie?" Even his voice was deep, and rustic. This person was the very definition of everyone opposite of what a Baggins stood for. He certainly did not have an office job.

"What," Bilbo tried to keep up steps as Dwalin entered his parent's dining room with it's mahogany table designed for Took family gatherings. "What food are you talking about?"

Dwalin eyed him as if he was a bumblebee without a stinger. 

"He said you'd have room for our meeting, this looks plenty." 

"Plenty for-" his doorbell rang and Bilbo was torn between watching the thug who entered and answering it, until he remember he led the door unlocked.

Standing at the door was a short stout man with a long white beard and kind eyes. 

"Balin Fundinson, at your service," He gave a curt bow and his jacket looked more taken care of than Dwalin's. 

"Good evening," Bilbo cursed himself for sounding so unsure because the man replied back that 'Yes it was' and then headed straight to the dining room.

"I see you're getting yourself settled in without the food brother, what a surprise." Balin said in a jovial tone. Dwalin glared(and Bilbo feared for the smaller man) and gave a terrifying smile. 

"I was sent as scout though I see you seem to have come empty handed too." Both men clasped each other's shoulders and, oh dear, head butted.  
"I have to say, I'm sorry but I do not know why you are here, and what food you are talking about." Bilbo interjected trying to find his courage. "And I'm terribly sorry but this is not a meeting place, it definitely was not on the schedule, I don't even know how you got my address." The words tapered at the end drawing both set of eyes to him.

"No worries laddie," Balin said with what was supposed to be a disarming smile, before turning back to his brother. It flummoxed Bilbo and prepared to kick them out when he heard the jingle of his doorbell being abused. More? 

"Alright, alright, alright."

He yanked open his green door rather violently, and the doorbell was still ringing. Before him were two handsome younger men, both with dark wash jeans; one with long golden locks and the other, still abusing his doorbell. Bilbo glared the most powerful glare he could muster.

The blond smiled at him, crater like dimples appearing from behind his close cut beard. "Fili-"

"And Kili," the brunette messing with the doorbell said. "At your service Mr. Boggins" They both finished.

Bilbo's cheeks flushed. "No no no, there is no meeting here," He noted their matching leather jackets. "And will you stop ringing my doorbell!" He all but shouted. Kili stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. Fili's smirk transformed to a more confused look. Bilbo felt a sense of triumph, maybe he could be threatening.

"The meeting was canceled?" Kili said his voice wavering. Ok so they weren’t threatened by him.

"No one told us," Fili added trying to peek inside of the home. "We even brought some of the food."

"The meeting wasn't canceled, there is no-" The men held a look of relief and pushed in. Bilbo noted both were carrying large brown bags, with a diner logo he recognized. 

"Where do we put the food Mr. Boggins?" Kili asked looking down at the shorter man. Speaking of food, his lasagna!

"Fili, Kili, bring the food in here boys," Dwalin called from the dining room. Bilbo gaped as they ignored him, his door fell close on it's own. He stumbled towards the kitchen his hand against the wall, trying to stave any panic attack he may have. At least his lasagna would be saved.

His home was invaded. He peeked outside his foyer window. His lawn had four large motorcycles, not even parked next to each other in the most convenient way. Ok Bilbo,take a deep breath, don't call the cops. Call the cops. Don't call- it must be a gentle misunderstanding that just needs the right push-

Another knock on his door. And the sound he made, of strangled frustration, startled him.

"No, No. I have had enough!" Bilbo drew his shoulders back, not very impressive from his slight body and marched to the door. He grabbed an umbrella from the stand he keeps by in the foyer and readying it for the next person, maybe even two.

"Bofur-"

A grunt- growl. 

"Thats Bifur and im Bombur-"

"Nori-"

"Dori-"

"O,Ori-" 

"Oin-"

"And Gloin-"And then a different varied chorus of at your service. All of them had wild hair, and beards, and leather jackets, boots, and the lingering smell of exhaust.

Bilbo most certainly did not squeak. His blue eyes were blown wide as they all brushed past him. One with a strange hat winked, and another with impressive red hair and a sly smile gave him the once over.

The umbrella was still clutched in his grip, polka dots as red as his face.

Then Mr. Gandalf walked in, long limbed, and in an expensive crisp grey suit. 

"Ah good to see you Mr. Baggins," That smile should not look so genuine and nice because Bilbo knew the man was responsible for it. 

"Mr- Mr. Gandalf." The man began walking in to the dining room as if it was second nature. Bilbo lingered after him, umbrella clutched to his chest as he tried to formulate words.

"Mr. Boggins, interesting music you got there," Kili said as Thunderstruck built up to the first verse. That blond, Fili was turning up the music. The table was covered in steaming food, and some of the biscuits he made that day. 

This was the big order he had to fill? Oh the, the, the indignation!

The largest one, who reminded him of a jolly Santa yet to age and still into flying in restricted altitudes bumbled up, making him feel very small indeed.

"Got any jam? We could use it to finish off these biscuits." 

"In- In the pantry." He sounded defeated. 

A few moments later, he was sitting in his father's chair in the corner of the dining room, watching them all take over, infest his family's dining area, rivaling a family of 20 Took's by sheer size alone. He couldn't take them all on at once with his umbrella. Oh if he could though, if only he could apply Tae Kwon Doe, like a ninja, to all their over imposing faces. They would be stunned-

"Oi why are all these spoons bent?" The one with the hat, Bofur, said. He still forgot to fix the spoons from when Lobelia had broken into his home one day. He changed the locks after that.

"Knives are kind of blunt too," Nori says, running a finger over the edge, his fingerless gloves, Bilbo noted, had some painful looking studs on them.  
"You should replace them," And the man threw the knife to the side. It landed perfect in his large rug under the table and stuck. 

"Excuse me?! That is a family heirloom." Bilbo stood up fists clenched. All eyes were on him, even Gandalf with his infernal amused smile.

"Still blunt." Nori broke the silence smirking over at Bofur. Bofur grinned, and there was a resounding laugh, leaving Bilbo feeling very small once again. They went back to eating and he snuck over to Gandalf.

"Mr. Gandalf, please tell me why these men are in my dining room, making an infernal mess of my mother's china and-" 

“Oh Bilbo, it’s just a simple merry gathering of some close friends.”

Mr. Gandalf placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder and offered him a cup of water. Bilbo took it and stared into space. Maybe he was dreaming. Yes he was in bed, forgot to turn the light off and maybe didn't do the dishes. 

"Heh…" A hysterical laugh bubbled out and trailed out of him. The invader with the big scar on his forehead( star shaped and an angry pink) looked at him, eyebrow raised. He grunted and shook his head like Bilbo was some escapee from an Asylum.

What. The. Actual

 _Thump, Thump, Thump._ The talking simmered down. 

"Well it seems the leader has finally arrived." Mr. Gandalf said, standing is full height and heading to open Bilbo's door. 

Like a zombie Bilbo followed.

The man behind the door was tall, and devastatingly handsome in the storybook brooding tall dark stranger kind of way (Bilbo had to tame the Took side of his mind for such thoughts). His brow was grim, nose an elegant hook, and blue eyes electric, stormy. He had a short-cropped black beard and silver strands could be seen in the sheet of black hair. His leather jacket was black, but the zipper gold.

"Gandalf, you said it'd be easy to find this neighborhood. I made the wrong turn twice," He inclined his head, though his eyes fixed to Bilbo, making the man consider his position. He was still holding a cup of water and an umbrella. "So this is the one you were talking about?"

"Bilbo Baggins, this is the team leader of the Erebor Riders, Thorin Durin." 

"He doesn't look like he knows the difference between a muffler and an odometer, much less does he look like a racer." Thorin's tone was sharp and Bilbo felt insulted just by the mere gaze he received. The disregard.

"Now see here-"

"Mr. Baggins is more than capable, but we can speak more on credentials once the meeting commences." Gandalf said as he raised his eyebrows at Bilbo as if to ease the man's temper. 

Bilbo was really tired of being interrupted. By this point he felt he didn't even own the house anymore. 

He brushed past Gandalf and Thorin, who were immersed in a low conversation towards the dining room, and shut his laptop effectively cutting off Madonna. Well, it would have been cooler if it stayed on the other song first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter- The Circuit is discussed, Bilbo makes a decision, and Lobelia continues to insult his hair.


	3. Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's just the beginning-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited a day early, though please do forgive me if there are any mistakes.
> 
> Edit: I meant to play a game with you readers. Although it's sort of revealed in this chapter, can anyone guess where the titles of the chapters come from?  
> I like to ask questions, and if anyone answers them correctly I think I'd gift a little one-shot related to this story or maybe even to a prompt. It's no obligation, but I just have fun with this type of stuff, haha.

**Yellow**

The protagonist of the literary acclaimed contemporary novel Bilbo is in the midst of reading is a man in his mid thirties who longed for a passion that wasn't there. So said man did some scandalous things to reach that peak of satisfaction, he even went so far as to hire a prostitute and not have sex with her. That is why Bilbo would read, so that he wouldn't have to live it out himself. He could do many things as different characters without having step too far out of town. 

Then this night happened. It appears fate decided instead of plucking him to somewhere he could run from, she would fill his home with exactly what he didn't want.  
\----------------  
At least their noise had simmered down, and the group of leather-clad men were sitting around the table looking at their leader, Thorin, expectant. Thorin had just finished his plate of _Bilbo's_ lasagna (curse the others for eating all the food they brought). 

It was Balin who spoke first. "Now that we have finished our supper," He sent a look to Bomber who was still eating scraps. "It is time for us to discuss the Circuit." There was a rising chorus of agreement.

"It is coming up, and we are still short one racer." The older man said.

"What do we need another racer for, a replacement, we are fine without them!" Gloin, the one with the most impressive red beard (Bilbo wondered how long it took to grow out) said as he banged the bottom of a fork against the table surface. Bilbo winced and thought of the scratches. The chorus of agreements started up again.

Mr. Gandalf stood from his seat in the corner of the dining room. He strode over to Thorin, pulled an envelope from the pocket of his suit jacket, and leveled them all with a stare.

"You need a fourteenth racer, Mr. Gloin, because without one you haven't won a race in the last five years-” he paused for effect. “And your sponsorship is dwindling. I may be able to support you, but that can't cover everything you've lost in the last few years." 

“What of the Iron Hill Riders? They still with us?” Dwalin directed the question to Thorin.

“They have withdrawn their support. They say it’s not financially beneficial.” Thorin said his eyes downcast.

They all hushed into a more humble disposition, avoiding looking straight at Mr.Gandalf.

"The Red Drakes are taking over, and soon will gain ownership of the Durin Line, you can't spread yourselves thinner than you already are. The Circuit is more difficult this year, there are more teams being involved, and less rules. You have reason to take caution." There was an edge of warning in his voice.

Bilbo's curiosity peaked as Gandalf procured another large piece of paper and unfolded it. It showed a map of the Lonely Mountain route, an old road that was cut through by highway, and hardly taken anymore. Though on this map it was littered with notes and markers. 

"That is one complicated track, I don't think I remember ever hearing about such a race. It couldn't possibly be crossed in standard time." Bilbo piped up, his hands itched to get a closer look. 

"That's because, Bilbo, this isn't a track, this is a course. The Circuit is a series of races based on varied levels of skill, ingenuity, and the mind. It would take at least a month to finish, it is difficult to define really." Gandalf gave Bilbo a look that he didn't trust. Bilbo stood back, brow furrowed. This did not sound healthy.

Balin cleared his throat. "Gandalf if what you say is true, and the Circuit is more dangerous, we are going to need a real racer, we can't do this with barely out of school boys and hobbyists with unknown bikes. They know our style by now, we need a Stealth." 

"Oi who you calling' a hobbyist-" one of the bikers, Bilbo couldn’t tell which one, exclaimed.

"I'm not afraid, I think we will win this year, I can feel it." The one who wore a cardigan underneath his leather jacket stood up, determination set on his mousy young face. Ori, Bilbo supplied in his mind, he's the most clean-shaven one. Another much older man who took a good deal of Bilbo’s tea, Dori, pulled the boy back down with a cross look. 

"We may not have the fancy suppliers as the others, but we have the strength, and we will fight." Fili said from his spot next to his brother, blue eyes sweeping over them with a naive sort of determination.

"Yes, and we have Gandalf’s secret weapon," Kili said smile brightening his eyes. "Right Gandalf? You said you had a Stealth had chosen, one who the competition would never see coming." 

"Well yes, you need someone who is quick in thinking, and with a bit of resourcefulness and a surprising amount of courage," Gandalf glanced at Bilbo in secret and it was starting to click in his head. "That is why I've chosen Mr. Baggins." Thirteen sets of eyes on him and he choked. 

"Doesn't look like much of a racer, and with that little dallying scooter," Dwalin said what Bilbo wanted to say, in a less self-patronizing way.

"Mr. Baggins has never lost a race he was in, he was quite the buzz a few years ago in the professional racing community," The old man had a confident tone and his attention was fully on Bilbo who squeaked out a 'Me’.

"Plus I do believe that little scooter he owns has not seen any other hands but Mr. Baggins in maintenance." Now all eyes shifted to him, skeptical, and not trusting.

"Ever ridden a real bike before?" Nori asks, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Bilbo's twenty eight year old mind still missed the double entendre in the midst of the snickers.

"A few times if you must know," His eyes flitted around; he wrung his hands together, and felt his nose twitch. "However I'm sure I could I did dabble in their inner-“

“He said he’s raced before!” Oin said, a hand to the hearing aid behind his earlobe.

“No he didn’t.” Gloin shot back and he pointed his empty beer bottle at Bilbo. “You’re no racer are you?”

“Well I- I-“ And the noise erupted from the table before Bilbo could stutter out the rest of his words. They seemed to be in argument with each other and paid no heed to the nervous man.

Thorin banged his Guinness Draft of the table and stood up. They hushed all around.

“Enough, what are we doing, sitting here, arguing amongst ourselves. Is this how we are going to handle the next race? Is this what we have left to show? Are the Erebor Riders going to wallow in their own misfortune, or are we going to take the hand that was dealt to us? Are we going to take the Circuit and show the other teams that we are not to be forgotten, that we are not finished yet, that we will not go down without a fight. Let’s not make beating us so easy.” Thorin said. His irises were icy, and fist clenched with determination, his teammates around him roared in cheer.

"Get him a contract," Thorin instructed Balin. 

The man gave Gandalf a sharp look, and said in a low enough voice, although it could still be heard by Bilbo. "We have little choice because you are our sponsor but I do hope you know what you are doing, choosing him."

Balin handed Bilbo a document, and he took it, noting the fine print and extensive nature.

"This is just standard procedure. The race is long, and unknown to the public. Arrangements have to be made in case of injury, or further." 

Bilbo paced away reading the document over. There were mentions of: "Lacerations? Road Burns? Dehydration?" He leaned a hand against the yellow wall. "Chance of pyrotechnics?"

"Aye, some people like to take it a step further and install rather interesting flares to their bikes." Bofur supplied with a dimpled smile, and a tilt of a bent spoon. "Can still burn the flesh right off your bones."

The contract said they had three weeks before the race. Three weeks, and then what about his job? The contract said there would be pay with the prizes at the end, if they win, one fourteenth of a share sounded fair, but a month with people he didn't know on the road? This sounded dangerous, so illegal, so, so illegal.

There was a burn stirring in his heart, and nerves twisted in his stomach.

So many emotions at once: thrill, fear, oh yeah fear, doubt; he never even raced motorcycles. This wasn't even a race, what was this? This was insanity. They are all insane law- breakers, not the crowd of respectability. With their beards, hooligan looks and strange tattoos, scars he didn't want to know where, doorbell abuse, utensil abuse, though Lobelia abused his spoons first devil woman, oh if that devil woman caught wind of this- this invasion of knives and weird hats-

"Oi don't insult my hat!" Bofur interjected, and Bilbo realized he had spoken out loud.

"You want me to race, in this?" He was feeling a little light headed.

"Yes Bilbo I think it's a great opportunity-"

"I need to lie down." He crawled into his father's chair, and curled up.  
\--------------

"Bilbo Baggins you have been sitting like that for the last ten minutes, the company is starting to wonder about your sanity. What is your decision?" Gandalf was leaning near him, voice quiet. Bilbo felt the numbness leave him.

"Mr. Gandalf, I don't know if I can-" Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the start of Bilbo’s excuse.

"You know Bilbo, I remember a curious boy, a boy who wanted to try everything, no matter how small he was. He took on things well past his assumed abilities. Your mother used to tell stories of your curiosity, and equal amount of injuries." Gandalf said. 

Bilbo remembered the way she used to tell everyone she could. With a devious but beautiful smile on her face, she would sit on the front porch with some visitor and watch him, the scent of lavender used to linger where she went, the sun always highlighted her brown hair to a caramel similar to his own-

"My boy, I'm going to tell you something that I told her before she set off on her own. Before she met your father, you know the stories," Gandalf’s wrinkled face was kind, but he did not smile. 

"Maybe, we sometimes need a little adventure to find ourselves." 

Bilbo was flooded with memories of the smell of asphalt, the hot sweat of nerves, the trill of elation, rubber wheels and asphalt. 

"Maybe it's that first push out the door, that will bring you back to who you are." 

Bilbo looked down at the contract, and Gandalf stood away from him, the gap evident.

The baker uncurled himself from the chair and stood up. He raised his head, chin still wavering.

"I have decided, no, I can't." 

The other's shoulders went slack, then his brow furrowed.

"Yes, No, yes, yes." He yanked his handy ballpoint out of his pocket, and signed the bottom, sealing it with his blood in blue ink. Drawing his shoulders back, he handed it to Balin before he could yank it back and shred it.

"Yes, I will join you." 

The white bearded man gave him a smile, and maybe a few of them cheered. It brought a hesitant, warm grin to his face.

"Pay up, seems your devil advocate trick didn't work this time." Bofur jabbed Nori with his elbow and held out his hand. He looked self-satisfied when a few bills were placed in his palm.

"Ah- Ah, yes great, just one question. What exactly am I doing?"

\----------- 

A Stealth is apparently a rider who is a wild card, one that can weave through the other competitors, they take the most risk, but usually come out the least harmed. Usually. That is what Balin reassured him. 

According to Fili and Kili he would be the badass secret weapon, a literal wild card. What with his doughy appearance and height, and rather rabbit like qualities no one would assume him to be a threat. The brothers exchanged smirks when they had said it and Bilbo had enough dignity and self-confidence to feel a little insulted.

 

\------------- 

Bilbo opened his eyes to see his goldenrod ceiling from the comfort of his bed, and the home was still. Very quiet, not a soul stirred. Not that anyone should have been there, but did last night really happen? Did he really sign a contract to participate in an underground race in the next three weeks? What about his job?

Oh god his job. He looked at the time: 7:00 am, it was still early, letting go of the breath he didn't know he held, the young man picked up routine.

 

His front lawn was a mess. The tire tracks had left pressed prints into his grass and someone upended his bushel of peonies. He let out a very long tired sigh.

Bilbo pulled up the Sackville's and saw a sign on the pole where he normally chained his scooter. 

It said 'Private Property, no parking allowed. I.E Bilbo Baggins.' 

His face colored, this had to have been Lobelia.

"Bilbo Baggins, I see you found my sign." She said the imp herself appearing from whatever shadows she originated. Her eyes roved over Bilbo, and he almost looked down at himself, thinking last nights events were evident on his body, when she turned away with a snort.

"Go park in the back where the customers do, just not too much in the way." Powder blue eyes returned to his face. 

"Still refusing to fix that unruly basket you call hair? I fear for any creature that lands in it." The woman had a personal grudge against his curls, they weren't even showing much from under his helmet and apparently there was still enough to criticize.

He grumbled his way to a parking spot, setting the green bike next to a set of strange motorcycles. One a bright lightning yellow and the other a gleaming brown. Both of some strange make, and well taken care of.

And Bilbo drooled. Oh they were exquisite creatures that he has not seen in years, because in this neighborhood motorbikes were met with disapproving stares and shut doors. What he would give to have his tool kit and pry open the engine, or inspect the cylinders.

\---------------

The baker almost forgot he was waiting tables that day. Much to his personal relief, the diner was slow that day. There was one family, he recognized them as Tooks, Lobelia was somewhere that Bilbo didn't care, and there were a familiar pair of jackets in booth 3.

"Hey Bilbo, booth three wants this cup of milk and a pint. S’ not right, a person to drink at this time." Otho shoved the tray at him with narrowed eyes and Bilbo knew where this was going. Pull up your breeches Baggins.

At the table were Bofur and Bifur, he wondered which one had the yellow bike.

"One cup of milk, and a pint-" He said unsure.

"Bilbo, I'll have the pint, never too early to warm the soul a bit." Bofur winked as if it were a shared secret and took his pint. 

Bifur took the small cup of milk and began drinking immediately. It was a strange image to see a pepper streaked man, with an angry scar, and a milk mustache over his mustache. Said man grinned at the empty glass, and made some rough gestures at Bofur.

"He would like to thank yah for the milk. Now, Bilbo, what's it like being a new member of the Erebor Riders?" Bofur sold the line as if it were pure gold and as sweet as a child. Bilbo looked around the diner; he guessed he could have a bit of conversation.

"Ah um, I don't know because I haven't really, well, done anything yet." He admitted ducking his chin.

"Don't worry, we have a meet up this afternoon, Thorin'll send yah the text and you meet as at the address. Just don't show up later than him and I'm sure you'll be off to a good start." Bofur gulped down the rest of his beer, and left a tip on the table,(the biker did sneak a bit more in Bilbo’s apron pocket). The man tilted his hat at Bilbo, and he and Bifur were up and out of the diner.

"Oh ok-" The words left Bilbo and lingered after them.

"And who was that?" Ah Lobelia, he never wanted to stake someone so much.

"Just a customer." He quipped back, not ready for her comments, or the long baking day he had ahead of him.

"Just a customer huh? Well they both seemed quite friendly with you," 

She picked up the tip off the table that was supposed to be for him. "What an odd lot to put yourself with Mr. Baggins, why your father-" 

He swatted her hand with the (stolen) dollars bills out of his face.

"My father would not have you prying in my business, and he is my father, and unless you have that title, you can not tell me anything he would say. Now if you don't mind, I have to go to the back and bake pies for the customers you disturb everyday with your constant complaints and bothers." He huffed raised his chin and walked to the back.  
\-------------

His cell phone buzzed around lunchtime and sent his heart to a panic because he was in the midst of pouring dough and readying a new tray to take out.  
 _'Hey Boggins Uncle T. sys u shld meet us at Bree Central, the warehouse near the prancin pony, u cn't miss it, c u at 7'  
-Kili Durin_

Is it too late to turn back?

His father always said a Baggins never goes against his word. 

\---------------  
The directions sent in a following text led Bilbo to building was that of an old abandoned factory under the bridge of the highway. It looked forlorn with a lot of dead end streets and tall weeds. According to Fili, it was their traditional hideout to practice without prying eyes. 

They called it The Company Warehouse. 

In any case, at the current moment Thorin had pulled in all speed and sharp turns, the ride purred under him with a certain grace that compared Bilbo to a spec of dirt. And his bike was nothing Bilbo had seen before. The paint was obsidian with dark blue accents that weaved around the frame. The man was in perfect form, hunched over the traditional looking frame, and Bilbo almost forgave him for being forty minutes late. The sun was more than halfway to dusk!

Thorin parked his bike next to the others gathered there. The entire group had been leaning against their rides and conversing; and Bilbo was perched atop Myrtle helmet in his lap, further from the others. 

"Mr. Baggins, if you feel so inclined to join us 'law breakers' we could get started." Thorin admonished, and Bilbo hopped off Myrtle at will, albeit with a huff, and marched over to the circle the group stood in. The baker squeezed himself in the space between Bofur and Kili.

Thorin began to speak about strategy with a smattering of honor and Bilbo got lost on the detail 'enemy sabotage', and his eyes trailed over their rough training courses with deep craters and rising hills, all man made. This track just screamed there were no codes, just man eat man. 

"Mr. Baggins where is your bike?" Thorin said breaking Bilbo out of his reverie. Bilbo blinked a few times, processing. 

"My what?"

If looks could kill, Bilbo would have been stabbed about thirty times in the softest parts of his body and then presented on a platter.

"Your bike, Baggins." That last line was drawn out.

Out of reflex he glanced at Myrtle, and realization dawned on the stormy face of the leader.

"You don't have a sport-bike."

"Ah no, I've just got my Vespa." Bilbo let out a nervous laugh. Time to stick hands in pockets and look elsewhere. 

"A Vespa. Gandalf said you've raced before." Was that a twinge of skepticism in Thorins voice? The tall man had stalked forward till he was standing before Bilbo, it was an unfair usage of height really. The others were pretending not to listen in. 

"Was that all a lie? Are you nothing more than a baker who we've just signed-"

"Mr. Gandalf was not lying, he just-" well Gandalf left out quite a few details on his circumstance.

"I raced in the Vespa leagues," he added. "Professionally." Thorin’s face did not change.

"Someone lend him their bike." 

"No- no that's quite alright I can-"

"You can do what exactly Mr.Baggins?" If that low baritone wasn't being used to cut through him, he'd find it sort of a- 

Bad thoughts Baggins. So he was a hot blooded twenty eight year old, every bachelor his age would be-

"None of our bikes are for amateurs." Dwalin says. Well excuse him. 

"He can use my bike Uncle." Fili said gesturing to the bright blue sport bike, it also was of a make Bilbo wasn't familiar with. 

In fact most of their bikes were. They varied in frame style, some crotch rockets like Fili's and others had a more classic Harley sport bike vibe.

Bilbo found himself being pushed towards the motorcycle despite his protests. He almost tripped over the vehicle while being pushed towards it by the Durin brothers.

"Wait!" He said with a raised finger. "I need my helmet, if I am going to do this might as well use my helmet." 

"Fine Mr. Boggins ( _it's Baggins_ )." Kili motioned to Nori who picked up the helmet and passed it to Ori, who passed it to Bofur, who passed it to Kili.

It was plopped on Bilbo's head and the small chef secured the strap under his chin. A loud gulp of spit bobbed down his throat as he leaned forward, and his hands gripping the rough material of the bars.

"You might want to turn her on." Fili whispered in Bilbo’s ear. He resisted the urge to both jump and shiver.

"Yes, yes my mistake," his hand found the key shakily and turned, the engine roared smooth in a sort of gorgeous hum and revved. He eased it forward in wobbly motions facing the winding gravel that was their practice track.

"One lap is all you need for now Mr.Baggins." Thorin said arms crossed.

"If the lad can make it. Oin get yer stuff ready." He heard Gloin roar with a laugh over the engine. 

"Any day now Baggins." Dwalin growled.

Bilbo inhaled one elongated breath to his lungs and wracked his brain for whatever he remembered from the time he rode a friend’s bike in college. He propped up his left leg from the ground, switched gears with a bit of difficulty, twisted the throttle slowly and released the clutch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for reading.
> 
> Next Time in Chapter 4: Bilbo rides a sport bike, goes to a bar, buys gear, and tries to bond with the team. However all of that proves to be just as frustrating as Thorin himself.  
> Making friends sucks.
> 
> Any chapter previews will be posted on Tumblr :).


	4. Cerulean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was adopted by the cool kids when he should be with the Chess Club.  
> Aka Thorin and Bilbo are awkward. And Fili and Kili like meddling and seeing subtext within subtext. Ori doesn’t have time for their shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you everyone who commented, gave kudos, and subscribed, or even just lurked and read!! I appreciate it all!**
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> ** ~~No one responded to the game yet. Therefore it is still open! Guess the what the name of the chapters mean and I’ll post a short little one-shot most likely related to this Universe. Of the character of the person’s choice..~~ **
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> **Edit: We have had two winners, so there will be a new question that will last from Chapters 5 and 6. Congratulations to Judayre and morgan1yam. And thanks for entertaining my silly game haha.  
> **  
>  Also special thanks to those who tried to make the guess too, it makes me happy someone also tried to answer.

**Cerulean**

It was probably not beneficial to his health to drive the first few feet with his eyes shut. So he opened them, and saw the long path coming closer at a faster rate. The first turn was around the bend, and just a bunch of dug up rubble barely ten feet wide. He urged the gas-

And almost skidded off the path in the midst of leaning. 

After that heart pounding moment, he realized _he wasn't going to splatter on the concrete and crack his skull open_ , it became easier to focus on the track.

He thought he was going pretty fast(50) for his first time, on a sport bike, in a while.

Fili's bike was a slick ride. If he was honest with himself, this was pure ecstasy. It was smooth over the torturous landscape, and it responded to the simplest touch. This engine, he just wanted to pick it apart. If he had a bike like this, he would race too. 

Well, maybe somewhere safer.

The ‘track’ had three options ahead of him, one: a possible end, two: the longest route, and three: A claustrophobic narrow short cut. He picked the last choice.

It was a close squeeze between a dilapidated fence and a graffiti covered wall, but he managed it in a heart lurching moment. The ground was a blur of dark grey and browns, and the end of the track was nearing. It took him in an arc back to the starting place. His legs were straining themselves to remain in the position he sat in. 

The group was coming into view, and he couldn't tell their expressions and didn’t care. Now he had to focus on stopping.

Oh but he didn't want to stop. This is what flying was, and he didn't want to land.

But he couldn't make off with Fili’s bike now could he? That's just not right. 

So Bilbo's body was pulled to a rough stop at the very last second, the tires screeched a bit and he cringed because that was just a tick of damage. 

"Woa-" his body met the ground when his ankle caught the kickstand. His face burned in a realization that they were watching him before and he probably looked like a right slow fool. None of them said anything, and he felt someone help him up. Dusting himself off, pride burning, he did not dare to look up at his helper. Who judging by the fingerless cloth gloves was Bofur.

"Well." He said impatient after a beat of silence, and peeked his blue eyes from his ducked head.

They were still staring at him of course.

"That was brilliant Mr.Boggins. You'll be a Stealth in no time." Kili said first, and two heavy hands clapped on his shoulders. It seemed he was between the smiling brothers.

"We didn't even think of taking that path by the wall normally we would go around." Fili started scratching a free finger against his golden beard. "Sure you didn't go as fast as we normally would, and your turns were really sharp in the beginning, but we really didn't expect anything from you." 

"I- oh I wasn't supposed to take that way?"

"No Mr.Baggins, you weren't." Thorin said from the center of the group.

"A move like that was risky. You treated Fili's bike as if it were one of your scooters, you could have damaged it. And you need to fix your position one bad land and you could sever your spine." Thorin admonished as if Bilbo were a child. 

"He will make a decent spare racer, once he can actually sit on the bike, he’s hardly Stealth material, however." The leader said to Balin whilst swinging a long leg over his own bike. 

A spare, Bilbo knew what that meant, he would hardly see the road, get a chance, and even getting a sport bike of his own was a low probability. He had never been a spare before.

He didn’t know what he expected. If he was honest he imagined that he’d surprise them all, and demonstrate the skills he gained from back in his racing days. He knew a scooter was different but he still hoped that they would see something in him, see that winner, the professional racer, and wouldn’t think he was a waste of time.

"Come now, cheer up Bilbo, we have room in the race yet, maybe in a couple weeks it’ll all change." Bofur startled Bilbo out of his wallowing with a positive smile. "We are gonna need fourteen if we are gonna win. Thorin knows that," Bofur lead him away with an arm around his shoulder. About eight of them started up their vehicles, all lined up next to each other. They seemed to be doing a practice race. Was Ori sitting on his bike knitting instead of watching?

"Bofur, if you don't mind me asking, exactly what make are your bikes?"

Bofur’s grin dimpled. "Why they are Durin Line Engineered bikes, have been our own custom make for years in fact, the last ones made that are being used are Fili and Kili's." The gears turned in Bilbo’s head as he watched the streak of vehicles wind along the mile long track. Kili seemed to be leading, wild brown hair whipping around his face, he looked almost feral. And then there was Thorin weaving between them all with effortless grace, and his face the most relaxed Bilbo had seen him. They moved like a pack of wolves, a real team.

"Why are you all in this Circuit?" He was hesistant to ask and hoped Bofur hadn’t heard him.

"Well we can't sell our bikes without the recognition can we?" Bofur winked.

"Is that all?" Curiosity got the better of the blond, he squinted up at the taller man through the dull color of dusk.

"We all have our own reasons I’ll just say, you have some big shoes to fill there, so you go easy on Thorin." Bofur gave him another pat on the shoulder, and Bilbo frowned back at him, why would he need to go easy on Thorin? His blue eyes went back to the track where Thorin pulled in first, then in a surprise twist Dori, with Kili and Fili right behind them along with the rest of the racers. The hat wearer wandered over to Nori, leaving Bilbo to stew in his thoughts once more. It seemed Bofur was giving them all notes on what he saw during the race, and Ori was piping up with his own comments.  
Bilbo wished Gandalf had showed up today.

"Same time tomorrow. And this weekend prepare for a long training session. Remember whatever you do avoid the Gundabad Orc Pack, they will be in town by now and we don’t need any fights before the Circuit starts." Thorin instructed.

"Orc Pack?" Bilbo restated, what a strange name.

"One of our rivals. They don't mind breaking a couple bones before the event." Said Fili, the blond was pulling back his hair into a ponytail, away from his matted face.

"They play dirty." Kili confirmed. Both exchanged yet another glance.

Then the two boys put an arm around Bilbo's shoulders, one on either side.

"Say Bilbo, tonight the group is going to the Prancing Pony-"

"Like almost every night-"

"Why don't you come with us? Have a drink, bond with your new teammates-"

"Even Ori goes-" Ori squeaked an indignant hey at Kili .

"I don't know." He said his vision automatically going to Thorin, who was preoccupied in a conversation with Dwalin. Dwalin delivered a rather rough punch, with a laugh, to Thorin’s shoulder a second later.

"Uncle won't mind."

"Yeah it may even you know, score you some points with him-"

"I have work, ah!" He was spun around to face Fili and Kili, both who had pleading looks that should not work at their age.

"C'mon just one drink!"

"Oh alright." He was going to discover a way to tell these two ‘no’ some day.

 

\-------------

 

He stared at his half filled pint of a muddled amber liquid, he had only a few sips since he was perched on his lonely stool. The bar was quite busy with a crowd very similar to The Erebor Riders, yet less colorful, and with shorter hair.  
Bilbo knew he was a slight unassuming man, but compared to all these hard bodies and beer bellies, he couldn't be insulted at getting carded every other moment, Fili and Kili, the traitors, ( Who he’s having a very hard time thinking of as separate entities) were at the center of a small crowd.

Fili took a shot back in the true spirit of a college student, a bit of tequila dribbled down his chin, mouth swipe and a confident smirk crawled on his face. Kili brushed his brother with his shoulder and then took his own shot glass. He had less finesse and more bold approach.

From the flushes rising on their cheeks and the risen level of their laughter, they were past tipsy. 

The dull orange lights gave the two a sort of princely glow, and maybe that's what attracted the few women of the location, like moths to a flame.  
Even the women looked like they could remove Bilbo’s limbs, with high stiletto heels. They were not at all what he was used to, though he did suppose his mother wore leather pants back in her 80’s highlife days, he saw the pictures.

He blamed the half-cup of a bitter beer mixture in him for his sudden bout of sadness. He stumbled off the stool and squeezed out towards a fresh air sanctuary, away from the brown floors and smoky smell of the bar. He passed Dwalin, the bald man was engaged in a game of pool with Bofur, and he reminded himself that he still didn't know where he stood with the rest of them.

Out in the freshness of the outdoors there were a few stars twinkling in the blackened sky. A lot of motorcycles laid dormant in the parking lot, and he started to look around when he spotted, in the front window of the nearest car, a couple heavily involved in some sort of intimate act. Blinking a few slow moments away he decided did not want to be there when it went further, so he risked heading around the sketchy side of the Prancing Pony. It was all cement wall and pipes with the same wooden floor board as the porch. 

So much for 'bonding with the teammates' when he parked he was whisked in, sat down, shoved a drink, and left to his own devices with many options of either; playing billiards, screaming at sports on the television, or participating in asinine games with alcohol, none of which appealed to him. 

Bilbo rubbed his eyes and sighed into a chuckle. “Well that was right exciting." 

He turned around from his position of leaning on a support beam and came face to face with Thorin Durin. The handsome man’s leather jacket was gone and he was wearing a plain white t-shirt that was just tight enough to hint to some impressive muscles. Bilbo's eyes trailed across a tattoo in rather intricate lettering that went from the man's tan inner wrist to his sleeve. From the top it read 'Oakenshield' well that's curious, and Thorin was watching him stare.

"Ah, right well, ah were you out here first? Maybe you were, I'm sorry I might be intruding I will just go over a few more steps-"

"You can stay." Thorin said, his face betrayed nothing. The blond fidgeted, and tried looking over at the sky again. The hazy quarter moon sat lofty above the Earth. It was an awkward sort of comfort, the two of them standing away from each other in silence, and both outside from the rest. 

"Mr. Baggins-"

"Bilbo." He said, pretty sure it was the alcohol that was speaking for him. "We are teammates now, even if I am the spare, and you can call me Bilbo."  
Were they a team? The Erebor Riders seemed more than that.

"All right Bilbo." Thorin's voice didn't sound like it was changed by whichever name he used. He didn’t sound like he cared about it. He did look like he wanted to say something more, and it piqued Bilbo's curiosity. "I- I was informed by Balin that since you’re an outsider you don't understand much about the race, and I have decided I should see to it you are given a decent breakdown, so that you make less foolish mistakes. We should meet tomorrow before The Company Warehouse practice time."

Bilbo's mouth dropped. "Well I have work-"

“When do you finish?" Thorin huffed his eyebrows looking severe.

"I finish at five, but I won't have time to go and get dinner-"

"I will meet you at your diner then, where is it?" Thorin was standing closer now. 

He was really adamant on making sure Bilbo wasn't a failure. Well not only was that a shot to the confidence but- Dear god, Thorin appearing at the diner, with Lobelia there, that is a recipe for disaster.

"It might not be good if you show up at the diner," Thorin's face darkened, and he hurriedly corrects himself. "I mean my boss she's quite-" Wait Lobelia isn’t his boss.

"We will meet outside there then and head elsewhere to eat and discuss this. Now Bilbo it's quite late you should consider heading back home." Bilbo flinched at Thorin's command, well it would be awkward if he walked back in and said goodbye to the people he hardly conversed with all night, and the glower the taller man had told him he was wasting time. 

"You don't have to be so rude. You know most people compromise when asking someone on a date." He chuckled at his own joke, then Thorin's eyes widened a bit, and he backtracked. 

"It was a joke, not very funny one I suppose. Well uh, goodnight Thorin." He crossed his arms over his body and offered a weak smile to the leader, swearing he heard a murmured 'Goodnight' as he walked away but that may be the hope talking. 

Nope making friends is the same as it was in Middle School. 

Right now it seemed Bilbo was adopted by the cool kids when he should be with the Chess Club.

At least under the haze of tipsy driving, the midnight sky looked like a promise.

\-------------

Bilbo slept through his alarm again. He woke up sprawled in a mess of sheets and with the finished novel lying open on his floor. He shouldn't have tried to finish the book last night because it skyrocketed his blood pressure and frazzled his brain whenever he was running late. He liked to think he'd become immune to Lobelia's taunts. But no here he was rushing himself, skipping breakfast, having no packed lunch and almost forgetting to button up his shirt over his undershirt. He slid on a pair of over priced Toms( A gift from his cousin, Drogo because the man thought that’s what ‘Poetry’ types wore) and jeans, feeling like he was at East Farthings Uni again and he was a bookish English major without the ability to grow much facial hair, dating Holman Cotton. 

He may have sped all the way to his parking spot at Sackville Diner's, and he might have exhaled in a moments relief that there were no other motorcycle's there. The tiny diner could not handle such commotion and Bilbo could not deal with that at the moment.

Lobelia said her usual spiel of his useless existence, and Bilbo was too tired he swore he said to her 'Sure Lobelia, whatever delusions you have today.'to care. Within the first thirty minutes And he may have burned a couple of biscuits, but it was manageable, even with his torturous growling stomach.  
Bilbo snuck a cookie, feeling guilty all the while.

By five-thirty Bilbo was packing up for his shift that day, he had fulfilled all the orders needed, and Otho does not like to stay open past seven o clock, so Bilbo figured he could leave a little early that day. He hung his apron on the rusted hook behind the door of the back kitchen and clocked out. 

He shuffled his way to the paved slate grey parking lot in the back.

A throat cleared, a very familiar impatient throat clearing sound.

"Oh Thorin, what are you doing here?"

"I said I would meet you here," Thorin said looking disgruntled. From behind him Bilbo‘s Lobelia senses tingled.

"Let’s... Get that going then." Bilbo motioned for Thorin to move forward with the wave of his hand and near pushed the other to their bikes.  
"So shall I follow you to the place?" Bilbo asked putting on his helmet.

"No you should ride with me, we can return for your- Vespa later." Thorin positioned himself on the bike, sliding up further than he seemed to normally, He wasn’t looking at Bilbo but his face just had that ‘This is not up for discussion’ look. 

"I'm sure that is not-" Bilbo sputtered Thorin gave him a look, and the shorter man got on behind him.  
"Hold on properly."

Bilbo grasped at Thorin’s sides, none too tight, and considered just gripping the sides of the seat under him when they shot off.  
Thorin, he noted, smelled like spiced wood with a twinge of smoke. Maybe that’s what a man is supposed to smell like. 

If anything, Bilbo thought, this is what a luxury classic must feel like. He hardly noticed the road beneath him, and the turns were nimble enough. Though it still was much too large in his opinion. And the ride much too short.

They were at a basic sandwich shop, and Bilbo figured he could settle for a sub, but the nerves were attacking like bees to an intruder, he was having a conversation, with Thorin, a man who does not like him, about a race course that he does not believe Bilbo fit for.

Fifteen minutes later he was staring at his Ultimate ten- inch sub and Thorin was sipping at a rather large bowl of soup.

Ten more minutes later and they both are finished and Thorin places a map between them(part of him is excited that ‘someone’ is still using a map in the age of the GPS). It's the same course map as the night of 'the invasion'. The paper was white and extensive with many black lines swirling on it, there was a red marker at a spot titled Erebor.

"This is the Circuit, a course with a number of chosen challenges, and designated course locations. It is run by a group of sponsors known as The Council, they determine how the races will be held all throughout. If we win, and receive their favor, we get to name our prize, and they will comply. There are no official rules, everything is legal except sabotage by murder, if it can be proven, and stealing another team's motorcycle, if that can also be proven. If a person injures himself or herself while in a race, then only they are at fault. Understand?"

No he didn't but he was afraid to say that so he nodded. He had so many more questions to ask-

"We need fourteen members because some races include more than one person at a time, and check points, it depends on if the Council is watching the race, or if the teams are left to their own devices. Usually the beginning races are left alone." Thorin was very good at looking people in the eye when he wanted.

"So you do need me?" Bilbo clarified, heart hammering in his chest. Thorin leaned back in the plastic green chair.

"Not yet we don't. You would just end up hurting yourself in the first round. But you do still have to show up."

Bilbo looked away frown set in his face. "I signed the contract, you can't just leave me out and expect me to tag along based off of one practice."

"It's my team Mr. Baggins, and until I decide you are ready, we will move without you, and you will remain on the sidelines, safe from a tarnished reputation." Thorin was mocking him and he did it without a change in inflection. He was good.

“Does everyone get a chance to race?” Maybe if there were others sitting on the sidelines.

“Most of the time, yes.” Well that got shot down.

“I do have experience you know, I'm a part of this team now, I'm starting to think you brought me here to talk down to me, and make it clear just how much you don't trust me to do anything." He bit back, cheeks puffing.

Thorin grit his teeth and snatched the map back. "No I don't trust you Mr.Baggins, you are an outsider, you don't know how to ride a sport bike, and when you do, you do it with risk." That was just one mistake. “ I brought you here to make it clear on where you stand with me, and with this team.”

"Gandalf may have his faith in you, but until you prove yourself. You are not one of us, you’re just a stand in." Thorin left a tip on the table, along with the full tab and stood up without a glance.

Well that was promising. Bilbo stared at the space where Thorin left, feeling worse than before. The man had practically lashed out at him just to tell him how much he didn’t belong.

He thought back to when Bofur said he had ‘Some big shoes to fill.’ 

Outside the shop the motorcycle engine was still running, and there was the loud press of a horn.

Oh right, Thorin's his ride.

 

\-------------

Bilbo was starting to think practice wasn't worth it.

He had borrowed Fili's sport bike again, and followed around the same droll path, without the others, they would him ride around, Thorin would glower make a comment about how everything he did was wrong, and then Bilbo would be left to his own devices as they relayed.

They wouldn't even share team strategies with him. The Erebor Riders were very isolationist, and it drove Bilbo to his last nerves.

"Hey Boggins, how come you left the bar yesterday without saying goodbye." Kili said leaning his elbow on Bilbo's shoulder, he smelled like dirt and oil and glowed with triumph. He had won the last scrimmage."Broke Fili's heart, you did." 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Kili, and looked over at Fili who was feigning a hurt look. It was painful to see how terrible it was.

"So I figure you know, you owe us a hangout. Don't worry not at the Prancing Pony, something a little more fun."

"Fili, Kili, I do hope you two are not harassing Bilbo over here." Gandalf's voice surprised the three of them, and yet there he was magically in his grey suit and Cadillac parked neat in the back.

"Did you hear him coming?" Fili whispered to Kili, and received a shake of the head in return.

"We were just setting up to spend some quality time with Mr. Boggins," Bilbo's shoulder was tiring from the weight of Kili's elbow. He was not an arm rest.

“Well then, maybe you could help him this evening, Bilbo here doesn't seem to have many race ready clothes, and you certainly can steer him in the right, direction." Gandalf surveyed Bilbo's button up, jeans, and beat up Tom's. Well.

"Sure thing Mr. Gandalf- Ow," Kili swore glaring at his brother after being pinched non-too subtly. 

"We’ll take Ori too, because he's better, and more interested in that stuff," The brunette's grin couldn't get any more strained.

"Gandalf, I didn't know you'd be here." Thorin’s voice rumbled from behind. Bilbo's stomach flipped when he heard Thorin come up near them. They hadn't interacted on the ride back to the diner, nor was it mentioned when he got to The Company Warehouse. 

"Well I am here, and with some rather important news concerning the Circuit." Gandalf said, garnering the attention of the company."The start has been moved up a week, apparently there are new teams entering this year, and that increases the roster number. The Council has decided not only to move the first race up, but also shorten the amount of time between each race." Collective outrage was instant.

"When were they going to tell us this?"

"What do they take us for, fools?"

"Moving it up a week, we hardly have-"

"That's bull-"

"Ori!"

"Well it is!"

"Quiet!" Thorin's voice silenced them in a snap. "Is this true?"

"I have no need to lie to you Thorin Durin. I would think my position as a Council member would give me some merit. The message will be sent out to each team leader soon enough. I will give you a hint, this year you need to choose a flag holder or two, and you can't tell anyone of your intentions to keep one, because the theme is Capture The Flag- I do hope your Stealth will be ready by then." Two sets of blue eyes went to Bilbo, and he shrank back.

"He will be." The raven haired leader said between grit teeth, Gandalf didn’t look like he believed Thorin. And Bilbo didn’t either.

\-------------

Although often overlooked, and Bilbo knew how that felt, Ori was one of the more pleasant ones to be around from the Riders. He was a slight man, only a couple inches taller than Bilbo himself and the least likely assumed to be a biker. It was rare he wore his leather jacket, unlike Kili and Fili who both wore theirs as if it were sewn to their skin. Although in retrospect Fili's was more pristine and managed and Kili's was a bit rough around the edges like it has seen one too many falls. 

But Ori ,he wore simple jeans and a nice earth tone cardigan that Bilbo could admire. His jacket could be found on the back of his bike, or tied around his slight waist.

“Hey Mr. Boggins, got a moment?” Kili said once they had all parked in front of the clean white building. He jumped off of his bike after Fili did and pulled the smaller man over to them.

“Is there a reason why Uncle’s face was tight like he took a swig of vinegar every time he looked at you?” This Bilbo was not expecting and he sputtered out like a dead engine.

“Ah-“ he crossed his arms, “That may be accredited to our little spat at that sandwich shop.”

“Sandwich shop? We didn’t hear about that,” Fili apparently was involved in this ‘private’ conversation. Did those two really need to know about everything going on in the group?

“Oh well, Thorin had decided to do the team a service and spew information about The Circuit at me, and make it very very clear that I am no where near qualified to be considered a fourteenth racer. In fact, I think he still considers your number thirteen and I’m just the imaginary little water boy twiddling his thumbs in the back,” He seethed. He was getting irritated at the reminder of that tanked conversation. Kili took a step away from him.

“Really, hm, a service to the team huh? Interesting.” The youngest boy was rubbing the stubble on his chin and looking at Bilbo with exaggerated interest.

Bilbo thought he heard Fili whisper something about a ‘ship’ in Kili’s ear.

What? Bilbo looked at Ori with a raised eyebrow, and the brunette man rolled his eyes and shrugged. 

It was a wonder they got anything done when they entered the Wanderer's Bike Gear shop. The manager, Radagast, flitted over them when he wasn't busy mumbling to himself, or to the plants placed around the rather large outlet. 

There were racks of pants, jackets and proper gloves, knee pads, helmets with visors, and then there were the tools. All of the tools, from chain alignment to shock wrenches, to-

"Um excuse me Bilbo, shouldn't we be focusing on finding you some, well clothing." Ori says. Bilbo turned away from the rather lovely Compression set, and followed Ori to the aisles the brothers were wandering.

"Mister Boggins, what size are you?"

"He's got to be smaller than Ori, Kili."

"No, but his hips are wider," Kili did a little wiggle to demonstrate.

Fili's eyes traced between Ori and Bilbo. Bilbo wrapped his arms around himself, while Ori just turned away and started looking through the racks.

"You're right, maybe these here would be good." Fili began pulling out some of the most uncomfortable looking black pants, and Kili pulled out a few standard kevlar jeans.

"I can-" Bilbo started.

"Try them, go on." He was shoved into a dressing room by one of the two and the torture began.

He had never felt so violated, the dressing room was large(and open) enough for Fili and Kili to enter the blue curtain on occasion and throw more pants at him, in complete disregard of his privacy.

"Told you he had wider hips."

"Would you call that pear shaped?" He heard at one point while trying to pull a shirt over his head. He was definitely not pear shaped, They were over exaggerating. He just put on a little weight in the last few years.

He’s still got that gym membership.

Each pair seemed too stiff, too tight, too lose, too long, too itchy, and when he settled on some plain blue regular fit pants he was shoved five of the same type because they knew he was a lost cause in the clothing department. 

Then he was getting thrown gloves, boots, a couple of jackets, socks, and jock straps He did not need that at all.

"Just give me a moment! You two have been bombarding me since we stepped in this shop, I will choose what I have to buy. Ori my wallet please, oh dear, you’re right- give me a moment I will change back into my pants," After a few moments of struggle he dropped the pile onto the register counter, where the small elderly cashier searched his face with narrowed brown eyes.

"What?" He snapped, it's been a very long day.

"Good luck with those two." The woman said with a pitying gaze on her wrinkled face. Realization dawned on Bilbo's face.

"Oh no I'm not together, with him, well with either one of them, oh can you just ring me up please." And he near fainted when he saw the total. There went his last paycheck. Or two.

"Hey Mr. Bilbo,If you need help, I can take a bag or two and follow you to your home." Ori offered while they were outside the store. Bilbo was sitting on the curb, with his face in his hands and the three large bags were set next to him. He should have resisted the extra tools, and the wheel cleaner. 

"Thanks Ori, I could use the help."

"What about us Mr. Boggins?"

Bilbo cringed before he could stop himself. "Um, I don't think we need that many, today. Right now," As their faces fell he felt worse. 

"Um, but maybe in a couple of days, because then- I am able to entertain people, it will be the weekend and all." Did his smile look forced? He bet it looked forced.

"Free food sounds good." Fili said straightening up.

"See you this weekend then Bilbo." Kili teased before both he and his brother got on the fire engine red bike, and drove off with Kili at the handles and Fili’s chin rested on his shoulder.

"Well," Bilbo sighed a few years off his temple, and then turned his gaze to the round- eyed Ori. "Shall we?" 

Turns out Ori is a big fan of books, and Ginger Spice Tea.

Maybe Bilbo could make friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter didn’t feel too much like a filler one. It was a little slow, but a lot of important setup needed to happen.  
> I’ve decided there will be three arcs with at least seven chapters that cover the span of the time period of the three movies(Well the estimated time period).
> 
>  
> 
>  **Next time in Chapter 5: Teal**  
>  Bilbo and Ori bond, shit gets real (Will Fili and Kili ever stop butchering his name?), and Bilbo totally fails at riding Thorin’s bike.  
> There’s an innuendo somewhere in there.  
> And the Circuit begins!
> 
> Once again any sneak previews can be found on my tumblr, I should post a preview tomorrow and maybe another one Saturday because the chapter is long.


	5. Teal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori you can’t just enter people’s houses cause you want to.
> 
> And the greatest mystery of all will Fili and Kili ever stop calling him Mr. Boggins? C’mon guys it’s getting old, that’s really not his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Thanks for all the feedback, kudos, comments, and even reads I really appreciate it!**  
>  So this chapter is a really really long one compared to the rest of the story. Well so far. But it provides with so much setup, and The Circuit has begun! Really it just hits the ground running from here.
> 
>  **New Challenge**  
>  ~~This one will last till the end of Chapter 6. In this Chapter, a team passes by Bilbo while he's at a stoplight, can anyone guess which team it is?~~  
>  Edit! We have two winners now, the answer was the Orc team, or more specifically the Gundabad Orc Team Thanks for playing guys.

**Teal**

Out of the whole team, Ori was the only one to let Bilbo examine his bike without comment. Bilbo, in return, let him examine his makeshift library, and take out any novels he would like to borrow. The younger man was delighted at the prospect and wandered back outside with about seven novels in his gangly arms.

"Just a bit of light reading to start off with." Ori explained with a nervous twinge. He sat next to Bilbo on his porch. Bilbo was looking straight ahead at his lazy street, hardly a soul was moving in the twilight time. He folded his dirty hands in his lap.

"Mr. Bilbo, if you don't mind me asking, but do you really intend to race with us?" Ori's question shocked him, because it sounded more like a hope, a sort of plead.

"Well I don't know about race, Thorin will see to that, but I did sign the contract." Bilbo shrugged in return, and watched the stillness of his driveway.

"I'm glad. We haven't had a fourteenth racer in years. It's been hard trying to make up for our numbers," Ori said his eyes squinted in a depressed sort of amusement. Bilbo tilted his head to the side.

"Why are you racing Ori? It seems less like something you would do, you seem very enamored in other ‘things’” He struggled to not say ‘sensible’ things. “And I don't think I've seen you scrimmage yet."  
Now that was the curious thing, practically everyone had gone in relay with each other, except Ori, he stayed to the side most of the time, watching, giving advice.  
“Dori doesn't want me to race, he says it's too dangerous, but I like it. I mean sure I'd prefer to go back to school for another semester, but I like traveling, I like being on the road, I like the situation, the challenge. I feel like it's helping me to find myself by going back to something I know. I still can't drive a car, Nori taught me only on his motorcycle." Ori began absently flipping through one of the books he took from Bilbo.

"Besides, they're all my family, and it just wouldn’t feel right to leave them without a little bit of revenge." The timid boy said revenge with such clarity. 

Ori hauled himself up with a bit of a wobble. "See you tomorrow Mr. Bilbo, and good luck." And then he was off on his small bike of a sturdy make, with the teal lining on black.  
Bilbo sat out on the porch for another thirty minutes, in the same white chair his mother used to sit in, with his legs relaxed and open, and gaze at the cloudy night sky. There were still more questions than answers.

Bilbo got a text from Thorin telling him they needed to work on his riding skills. 

Not in so many words of course.

So after one long shift, and with the lingering smell of dough on his new riding pants, Bilbo pulled in at The Company Warehouse later than the designated time. His heart plummeted.

Thorin was there, leaning against his mean looking bike with his arms folded across his chest and long hair flowing in the breeze. Straight out of a rather heady but cheesy romance novel cover. 

Wait, only Thorin was there. Any confidence Bilbo had, very little, was drained out of him with a steel strainer.

"You're late." Thorin said. Yeah well so was he half the time and Bilbo never complained. Oh he was not having it today at all. If Thorin said something that made him cross, he’d think very hard about giving him a piece of his mind.

"I just got off my shift," Bilbo said while taking off his helmet and setting it on the cream seat of his scooter. The wasteland of The Company Warehouse looked even more desolate without the chatter of the others, just a long makeshift track with dried up grass and graffiti walls. He sighed.

"Gandalf said he has a bike for you, he should drop it off at your home sometime soon." Thorin says, standing away from his own motorcycle and holding out a set of keys.

"For now you will ride mine around the track." 

Bilbo started to protest but he had a feeling that was a bad idea and instead he went to go put on his helmet, again. There was the prickly sensation of eyes following him the whole way.

"Begin when I signal." Thorin said as Bilbo slid on the large frame sport bike. His hands were shakier than on Fili's ride and he kicked wildly in search of the gear switch. When he found it, the rest was kind of common sense. It revved beneath him and Bilbo looked up for Thorin's signal.

He was terrible at driving Thorin's motorcycle. He was slow in reacting to everything and swore he almost toppled about three times. He tried to evade one of the craters and instead ended up dipping right in and out of it. 

This was trying to tame a dragon with a stick. His palms were sweaty halfway through the winding road, and the wheels felt as if they were full of sticky honey. This was the worst he has ridden in a long time, he didn't know how to position his spine or bend his knees properly.

Everything hurt after one lap.

Azure eyes needled him to his perch.

"Again." Spoke the low baritone.

Bilbo wanted to cry at the end of lap two, his turns were no better and he almost got attacked by a pack of birds who happened to land in the path in front of him.

On the third lap he did topple at the end. Luckily the bike was at a near still and, besides his elbows, the only thing bruised was his pride; when Thorin's face didn’t look any happier. 

In fact his brow sunk deeper in disappointment, and the older man said: "Again. You're getting worse, like a fish trying desperately to run on land." 

Bilbo cursed him all the way through lap four. His turns had grown smoother but he still hated this bike, he was thrown off by its size and streamlined velocity. He could not predict any subtle moves with it, it was a literal wolf on the hunt, and he was a little woodland creature trying to hang on.

“Stop." Thorin halted him as he readied for lap five. Bilbo leaned back in relief.  
"At this rate you won't be ready for scrimmage. One more lap." He ordered and then turned his back from Bilbo.

The blond's mouth was tight with defiance, he did believe he was getting better, and when exactly would he need to ride Thorin's bike again? This was outrageous and unfair. Thorin must really dislike him being there.

Frustration is what fueled him for then end part of that night.

Bilbo rode Myrtle on his way home. So he took his time down the empty streets of the night, his body was sore even on the pastel Vespa and he didn't feel any better about himself than before. 

It was like his first ride around a track all over again. Not at all like Bag Shot Row. The strip of road in front of him, blackened by the night sky, looked as smooth as the pavement of his last race. He was so used to utilizing his mind when he hit the asphalt, the actual pattern of the track itself was unimportant, it was all about what his opponents would do. Like a puzzle, or a riddle, it was playing a guessing game, so he never went too fast at the wrong moment.

Bilbo Baggins was a threat then.

The red light brought him to the present. The quiet of the Shire neighborhood was ominous, like whispers in the dark. From far away motors could be heard. He assumed it might have been the Erebor riders, but as they got closer the engines were just obnoxious. The opposite light turned yellow but Bilbo stayed put, instinct keeping him a frozen animal.

A pack of about fifteen to twenty ran the light, all with large Yamaha VMax's and Harley Sports, and Bilbo thought the Erebor Riders were _large_. He was glad he wasn't spared a glance, and headed home as fast as he could.

Was that another team? If so he was dead, dead, dead.

In his front yard sat a foreign sport bike. It was of the same frame type as Fili's or Kili's but slimmer. The silver paint was dull, and the seats dusty but Bilbo's curiosity had his hands running all over the surface. He found a little mountain carving at the front left, and the headlights needed some serious cleaning. There was a note atop it. 

_Bilbo,_

_I believe this bike is right for you in size and ability. It does need a bit of fixing with the engine, maybe a few other things you can find, and it hasn't been treated with care in a good while, but I believe you will give it the rider it needs. Now make haste in getting those repairs done. You’ve got a day to do it._

_-Gandalf._

One day shouldn’t be that hard. It just had the high probability to be potentially exhausting. 

He searched for a little bit and did not find the keys on the bike, and he gave up for the night, his mind was groggy and his body sorer than he thought. He dropped his door keys several times in a rush to open his green entrance, and then locked every lock he could after him.

Exhaustion won him over, he looked at the stairs, and didn't make it past the couch.

It was Saturday. Thank every being out there it was Saturday. Bilbo rubbed his eyes, the yellow sun was bursting through his living room curtain. The clock hanging above his kitchen entrance way said it was eleven in the morning. A late start to the day, well he didn’t have a shift today, unless they called him in (which Lobelia has done in the past), he didn't like to work Saturdays. 

Bilbo stripped out of his clothes from the day before, and sat under the steady stream of the shower, just trying to scrub away the dirt and sweat and loneliness. After he rinsed his hair, he dried himself, and wrapped himself in a fluffy robe and slid on his father's old green slippers. They were a little large on his feet because his father was a much rounder man but they were warm and familiar.

He was setting on a kettle whilst rubbing his eyes, and mixing pancake batter when he heard a voice behind him.

"Well you seem to be in one piece, don't know what Thorin's so worried about."

"Dear God, Oh my god." Bilbo jumped a foot in the air and nearly knocked over his steaming kettle. He gripped the counter and turned around, a startled rabbit with wide eyes and just dried curls. Nori was leaning against the green wall of his kitchen, his elbow leaning on the bar counter. The perfect picture of nonchalance with his leather jacket draped over his arm, Guns N' Roses vintage black tank, and kevlar denim.

"Got enough pancakes for me right?" The intruder asked his voice dripping with persuasion.

"How- how did you get in my house?" Bilbo's heart was still hammering and he struggled to close his robe a little tighter when he remembered he was just wearing boxers underneath, any other day he would be _naked_ under his robe.

"Through your back patio window, the bolt's a little loose there." Nori strutted over and examined one of his delicate powder blue tea cups with interest.

"Through my back patio," Bilbo squeaked. "You couldn't have knocked on the front door?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Green eyes swept over him, and then landed on his pan. "Pancake's burnin'.'" 

Bilbo turned and flipped it in a quick motion, very concerned for his, and now also Nori's breakfast. He would have to split his portion in half, darn. 

"Why are you here? Surely not only for pancakes?" Bilbo asked the color in his cheeks still cherry red.

"Saw the bike on your front yard, it needs a bit of work doesn’t it?" Nori said now standing next to Bilbo, rather close as well. "And you weren't answering your phone last night apparently. Thought Thorin was going to turn a pretty purple and explode, haven't seen that since the boys stole his bike and crashed it. You really set him off- quite the talent you have there."

Bilbo scoffed. 

“Well I do aim to please." he shoveled a fifth golden pancake onto the stack. "You know, when he's around me it always seems like I do everything wrong, that my mere breathing is in the wrong order and I should take in carbon dioxide first." 

"Yeah he does seem to have something against you." Nori leant over him as if examining the much shorter man with a raised reddish eyebrow. "You're the first fourteenth racer we've had in a while. Sure you're terrible, but he can't hold that against you what with everything riding on this Circuit and all." Bilbo flipped another pancake and watched the oil pop on the pan with his brow furrowed.

"Who was the racer before me?" 

He peeked up at Nori, maybe it was someone like him who got fired, or left the team from being excluded.

Nori's face shut down, there was still that infernal smirk but it looked too carved on his thin face. He leant forward again and his hand slipped into Bilbo's robe pocket, a heavy set of keys fell against his thigh. 

"Found this in your mailbox."

"That was-is a complete violation of my personal space." Bilbo took a few steps away, and Nori took a few steps closer, until the utensil drawer handle was digging into Bilbo's still sore back. Hazel- green eyes betrayed nothing, and underneath the neat copper mustache was a very sly expression that played on Nori's lips. The tall man bent over hands in pockets, and leaned over to Bilbo's round ear.

"Pancake's burnin'." He whispered, before he leaned back against with a self-satisfied smirk.

Bilbo knew he was red from head to toe, it's been a while since he's been that close to a man. And the nerve of the guy, he knew he was being teased at surface value, and that made him blush more. 

"Right," he stuttered and shoveled off the last pancake of the stack.

"Tea?" He said, his hand still shook when he poured himself a cup of Earl Gray.

"Nah, I prefer something a little not, herby, that's Dori's area." Nori snagged a plate and several pancakes from the stack. He even rummaged through for Bilbo's syrup flavors.

Bilbo ate one of the most awkward breakfast/brunch ever. It even trumps the one time he made breakfast for a one night stand who didn't let him know it was a one night stand. That happened too far often for his liking, his track record of naivety and differentiating long term vs. short term interest was terrible.

"Well thanks for the pancakes. See you at practice today." Nori stood up, stretched, and let himself out the front door.

"Practice, wait there's practice today, when is it? No one told me." Bilbo tried to head after the man, but he tripped over his chair leg, and then over his owl mat. 

The clock said 12:30 pm. He had a bit of time before five, and he had some work to do. 

The evening came faster than he thought. The sky bled from orange to dusky blue in a few short moments, and he was elbow deep in oils and sore fingers. He sat back on the pavement of his driveway, beside the right portion of the bike. The engine had just been popped back in. It was quite difficult to engineer again, Any more damage and it would have been something out of his league, and even Youtube's. Only his curious mind kept it going, and several times he felt he had broken it, but no it slotted in right perfect, and he was able to perform the oil change for it. It was quite the lovely piece of tech, and if he were a true mechanic he'd be jealous of whoever designed this. 

What a curious amount of secrets these Erebor Riders had. The Shire neighborhood was full of secrecy all the way up to Bree City, but no one carried that obvious weight of mistrust and mystery as those men. Bilbo felt wicked and guilty because one of the reasons he delved into the all day process of the little fix was in hopes he unraveled something they refused to tell him themselves.

He swiped his dirty arm across his sweaty forehead, feeling the curls stick in place. He gave up on his hair at this point. He was close to figuring it out, the enhancements. Now it was pure curiosity, sometime in the future he was going to makeshift reverse engineer this beauty. He already temporarily named the bike Myrtle 2, because nothing could beat Myrtle, Myrtle was silent, convenient, less of a disturbance and better on gas. 

This bike was like leading a secret double life that never left the closet. 

He started cleaning the tires, and polishing the paint with a wax he used for Myrtle often. And by that finishing job it was dusk again and he was delirious with satisfaction. Not as good as sex, but close. 

Bilbo settled in his green grass and picked at the blades again. His yard smelled fresh like the collection of flowers and plants he tended in honor of his father. Memories of his father bent over and pruning them in the springtime sun flitted around each time he closed his eyes and just breathed in the garden. It was foggy but still there, that gentle hum of Bungo Baggins used to always start and his mother could be found joining her husband in melody, reading a book while his father worked.

After a few beats of rest Bilbo glanced at his watch, 9:30 p.m. Practice was still going on till about 11, better late than never. He picked up his tools and it may have taken couple trips but he got them back in his home. 

"I'm sort of excited to do this." He mumbled as he snapped on his helmet and straddle his new silver sport bike. It started up a little rusty but then translated to a purr. 

"Forgot my phone!" He hated having a cell phone.

He scurried back in his house, grabbed the device, and then zoned back into sitting on the bike. He shoved it in his pocket and drove off.

On the street it was no Myrtle, it didn't have the comfort factor, the simplicity, and he knew he couldn't give up his Vespa for the world, but this was- fun.

Bilbo pulled into the back parking lot right on time , the group who was racing pulled off of the track. Fili hopped off his bike, and threw a smug look at Kili, who seemed to have lost to him in their own personal race, because Dwalin was the one in first place.

Bilbo crept a little closer. He was late, a Baggins is never late-

Maybe he could make the case he was there the whole time they just didn’t notice.

"Bilbo!" Ori moved from Dwalin's side, it seemed they were discussing the last scrimmage. It was a funny parallel, tall buff Dwalin, and thin bookish Ori. Not that they were together. No they weren't but it would be interesting if Dwalin had _feelings_ and Ori showed any signs of anything besides knitting and books and occasional boldness.

But he did notice the tattoo’ed man seemed to gravitate quite easily to Ori when he wasn’t preoccupied elsewhere. 

Here he was again playing the match maker game in his head, it never worked out and he never did anything about it to push anyone together. Well it did sort of work for Primula and Drogo, but he knew their feelings for each other.

He watched too many romcoms on too many lonely nights.

"Mr. Bilbo?" Ori said again standing in front of Bilbo as the other sat on his new bike with a furrowed brow and confusion evident in his face. He should stop looking at Dwalin with that face. 

"Oh yes, hi Ori. How have you been?" Bilbo greeted, he noted the lights in the back of the warehouse were bright that night, and gave everything a yellowed glow.

"I've been good. Did you get any of the-"

"Mr. Baggins. How nice of you to grace us six hours after practice had begun." Thorin drew everyone's attention to the Bilbo now. Bilbo saw blue eyes assess his state, which was probably quite dirty from a days work, and then halt on his bike. 

"Ah you see, time got away from me and I did not know when practice was, I figured normal time, which I am still late for either way." He rambled, losing his nerve with each word.

"Mr. Boggins, we thought you were dead! You didn't answer any of Uncle's calls, nor Bofur's, nor Ori's, and I sent you at least a hundred texts." Kili said with exaggerated hand gestures.

Bilbo pulled out his cellphone from his pocket. And sure enough he had enough alerts that his battery was half gone.

"How did you come by this bike?" Thorin's voice was low he almost missed it.  
"Ah, oh Gandalf left it on my porch. He said it'd fix my bike problem, but it needed some real work on the engine, and the brakes, and then to clean the frame was a job in itself, and that may have been why I was late." He had a sheepish grin take over his face, and rubbed the back of his helmet.

"You fixed the bike?" Balin said, taking pity on Bilbo when he spoke over Thorin. 

"Ah…yes? Is that a bad thing, Gandalf-"

"Gandalf did not let me know this was the bike he had for you." Thorin said, Bilbo's stomach plummeted, no one defended him, and no one spoke up.

"Well I could just give it back-"

"How was he able to fix the bike?" Oin said to Gloin, not very good at the whispering aspect.

"He misses another practice and he will live up to his title as biggest liability." Dwalin growled at Thorin.

"Now see here." Bilbo leaned on the bike and pulled himself up clumsily. "I figured I couldn't race without a bike, and since I got this bike, which was not easy to fix by the way, I can actually be of some use now and stop using someone else’s bike. And damaging said bike as you all like to point out so often." He never felt justified in irresponsibility, but he had to try and defend himself. 

He didn't want to add he didn't feel welcomed, that he felt frustrated and useless and that it wouldn't change their regard anyways. He looked at the faces around him, searching for the ones who at least were decent enough to warm up to him, but then again it isn't easy to speak out against the heads of the team. And by Thorin's expression, his gaze still locked on the bike, he must have committed some taboo that everyone was waiting for the stoic rider to deliberate on.

"Keep the bike. Don't miss another practice after this." The raven locked man said, and he parted the group stalking away with the heavy thud of his boots.

Balin sighed, tired, and offered Bilbo a small smile; his eyes also trailed the bike, and he patted a gloved hand on the gleaming head of the motorcycle.

"Good job laddie, maybe Gandalf did see somethin' in you." Bilbo warmed at the first compliment. When Balin turned away, the members he was most familiar with talking to broke the ice. Bofur clapped his shoulder, Fili started examining the bike with open curiosity and Kili tried to ruffle Bilbo's hair with the helmet itself.

Ori handed Bilbo back two of the books he borrowed with a smile.

"Thanks for letting me borrow these Bilbo, they were great." His hand rested on the handle of the bike, Bilbo found Ori to be the most expressive and he could read the far off layer of sadness. "The others may not want to admit it, but I'm sure they will agree with me eventually," Ori started to whisper, he made a discreet motion towards the closest few to Bilbo. 

"That you're a part of the team."

Bilbo beamed.

\-------------

On his first day riding Myrtle 2 and he discovered she was a real demon. A tricky little thing full of speed and lacking any real power ( That may have been his fault, he may have sucked out some of the strength and he hoped it was made up for in aerodynamics.). She was also a small bike, smaller than the youngest three's models, and her age showed in some of the more complicated dips.

It was still better than riding Thorin's bike, he was able to take more risks with her, and though it took a beating on the tires, for once he felt like he could be a racer again. Even if he didn't race.

As the days went on practice and work became a challenge of will. There wasn't much left of Bilbo’s self worth between Thorin's glowers and Lobelia's complaining. 

When he was finally allowed to join, he’d lost every scrimmage against the other riders. 

Bilbo did enjoy getting to know his teammates (Fellow gang members? Mutual participants?) a bit better: he spent his nights talking with Ori analyzing books, and on a side note he made a point to avoid Nori out of embarrassment (who seemed to have mentioned to Bofur their morning of pancakes, and who then told the rest of the team) 

Fili and Kili kept asking to come over and Bilbo did entertain them once, which they promptly took over his television and drank his untouched beer. He did learn their ages; Fili was 22 and Kili was 20, they both had a mother, their father was not to be spoken of and Thorin is their Uncle by their mother's side. 

He also learned despite their joint-ness at the hip, they were two very different entities to handle. 

Kili has it set in his mind to ask as many questions he can about Bilbo’s stagnant private life.

Fili has it set in his mind that he knows everything there is to know about Bilbo, and he refuses to be surprised by anything the other blond does.

And when they invited themselves to stay the night Bilbo learned Fili likes to take an hour to groom himself in the morning, and Kili thinks that hour could be spent eating breakfast.

 

Ori is ten years younger than Nori who is ten years younger than Dori, and they all have different mothers (What a scandal that was for Bilbo to hear, he thought that only happened on t. v.).

Dori is the mother hen who has an addiction to tea, and often can be found trying to tell his brothers what to do.

Nori is a legit criminal. Bilbo actually did not see that coming. 

Bifur really liked the diner's milk and showed up often sometimes with Bombur who liked Bilbo's pastries, and they tipped well despite the lack of conversation. Though one day Bilbo found a little carved motorcycle, painted yellow atop the five he knew Bombur left for him, and it just raised more questions (he still hasn’t mastered being able to communicate with Bifur and those grunts really don’t mean anything to him just yet.)

And Bofur despite his rather detrimental sense of humor, was one of the nicest guys Bilbo had come across, he was generally charismatic and often tried to cheer Bilbo up during practice. But never, ever touch his hat without permission(not that Bilbo has, though the material looks quite soft.), and don’t question the twin braids either(Now Bilbo did make the mistake of doing that.).

Apparently the team did have finances to be taken care of like gas, and tire emergencies, living expenses and missing pieces, all which were handled by Gloin.  
.Balin gave the best critical advice when it came to sportbike riding (Accoriding to Nori he was still barely decent.). 

Oin fixed up all the wounds the team suffered from in some of the quickest time and with some of the foulest smelling things.

And Dwalin was Dwalin, a huge, hulking intimidating mystery whose dislike for him was only trumped by Thorin himself. Though Bilbo discovered the man’s tattoos were possibly endless.

Not much changed with Thorin; he spoke to Bilbo in limited quantities, and spent more time staring with a judgmental gaze. It felt like Thorin was waiting for him to fail, so with every bruising comment and glower, Bilbo kept going. He would pick himself up, scowl a bit and avoid looking Thorin in the eye but he kept driving on. He had something to prove to the brooding man, and he would.

All the pleasant stuff ended too soon. 

\-----------

"The Circuit begins tomorrow." Thorin said as he stood in the middle of the group, most of them had a celebratory beer uncapped in their hand. The entire mood was less than jovial.

"We will meet here at six, and head over to the starting point. You all know the procedure." No, Bilbo did not. 

"Tomorrow we will pick up our package at the Tunnel. And from then on we can’t turn back.”

There was a rousing cheer, only Bilbo remained silent, gone deaf to the world, only hearing the thump of his own heart beat. Tomorrow was the race. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he couldn't turn back. Was he even racing again? There was no mention of him being the permanent Stealth. 

He was going to be sick all over his handles.

"You ok there Bilbo, you're looking a little green?" Bofur asked with the tilt of his head.

Bilbo nodded and smiled with a twitch of his nose. "Just fine, I just remembered I have to be at my shift early tomorrow haha. That's all. No worries."

Oh god, what was he going to do about his job?

He could try and take a month off, but no he'd get fired. None of the outcomes resulted in anything but being fired, by Lobelia. He would lose his job, he had gotten so used to it. It was steady, a secure way of replenishing his savings, of not tapping into their storage. His job kept him from being the crazy college grad who traveled the world until utterly spent and left unemployed. It was so secure.

\---------------

 

The Circuit started in Bree City's old tunnel by the river. The tunnel led to a highway that connected to the old country road that no one frequented anymore, and it was full of motels and ghost towns. It was longer than expected and daunting. 

The real traveling began later on at each team's discretion.

They were the only team there that night. It was dark, and sticky, with buzzing mosquitoes searching for blood to suck. Nori went in a squat steel building and crept out holding some cloth in his hands and a rolled up paper.

"This flag is ours." He held up the navy blue fabric. "Here’s the first map."

Thorin took the contents from Nori. He handed Dwalin the flag and read the map under the light of a lonely street lamp. After ages he handed it to Balin, who did a much quicker once over.

"Like Gandalf said, it’s Capture the Flag. We've done this theme before, we win flags through theft or races. And we will have to guard ours. The teams that last the longest with flags will go to the final Circuit. It seems our first race is ihere n Old Bree Tunnel, against the Trollshaws. Tomorrow." Balin explained. The silence had anticipation, and underlying solemnity.

"The Trolls? Haven't heard of them in a couple years. Thought they were lacking members." Gloin said.  
"Aye they're a rotten bunch."

"What do they do?" Ori asked.

"They steal bikes, sometimes destroy them, sometimes take parts for themselves. They're a small group that likes to strike before the race. They're none too smart either, and often show up drunk to a race, which is why they have to cheat to win usually." Balin expounded as he rolled up the map. 

"When was the last time you guys did this theme?" Bilbo whispered to Bofur.

"Five years ago." When they had a fourteenth rider.

\----------

The day of Race one Bilbo burned three loaves of bread and nearly set fire to his apron. Yup, standard pre race jitters, putting himself in so much danger he might have the possibility of dying before he even got to the track.

He said this much to Bofur when they met up outside his diner. Bilbo had snuck the biker an extra roll because he volunteered to lead the baker to the Tunnel. He had taken Myrtle 2 to work that day and Lobelia had specifically said:

"You are tainting this pristine diner with your devil mongering ways. I am watching you Bilbo Baggins, if you so much as ram that eyesore into the diner, you will be kicked out faster than your hair can frazzle in a humid environment." Then she walked away muttering for him to hear her complaints of his dangerous bike, and how she hoped poor Lotho didn't get any ideas.

The entire day he was in a bad mood. And it did not change when he was with the rest of the team. Though his stomach continued to churn the little food he ate that day, all the way up to race time.

Before he knew it, it was midnight and the other team hadn't showed up yet.

The Erebor Riders were getting restless, most had gone inside to wait at the checkpoint for the other team to show up, or a Council member saying that the other team had forefit.  
Forty minutes later Gloin, Bofur, Nori, Bifur and even Dori had started up a card game. Bombur was munching on a sandwich while watching said card game. Ori had started reading a book under the strain of his cellphone light, and Fili and Kili were left outside with the bikes.

“Hey Bilbo go check on the lads for us will you?” Bofur had said, and then Bilbo was left with the duty of being harassed by two bundles of restless energy.

"So Mister Boggins, we haven't heard of any girlfriends." Was the first thing said to him when he got out there.

"That's because I don't have one Kili."

"Oh. Boyfriend then?"

"It- It. Well not in a little while."

"Friends with benefits?"

"That is none of your business!"

"Well I'm sure-"

"Fili, Kili, where is Bombur's bike?" Thorin had snuck up on them mid conversation, and Bilbo was the only one to jump.

“Ah-“

“-Um”

Sure enough the large orange bike was gone.

"It was just there-“ Fili started.

"Myrt- my bike is gone too! " Bilbo said scrambling over to where all the vehicles were parked.

It got painfully silent then.

 

"Those cowards, they're here, and they probably have been here for hours." Thorin swore as he straddled his bike. He honked his horn as a way to get the rest of the team out of the checkpoint building.

By the mouth of the tunnel engines could be heard turning on.

“They tried to creep away, they’re down by Bree tunnel!” Kili said jumping on his crimson sport.

"Everyone with me. They are leading us on a chase. Dwalin you keep the flag. If we catch them we get the bikes back. Bombur ride with Balin his bike is big enough, Bilbo - get on." Bilbo's face burned and he ignored the snickering from the brothers beside him.

"Alright-" He wandered over hesistant limbs shaking.

"Anytime now Mr. Baggins, they are readying to leave."

"Alright Alright." Bilbo settled behind Thorin, and the familiar scent of spiced wood returned. 

"They will try to outride us. But they underestimate the Riders of Erebor, we will beat them before the dawn." And they were off. Bilbo craned his neck around Thorin, but those inconvenient long locks, even tied back in a ponytail, whipped Bilbo in the face.

He caught a glimpse of several hulking figures on bikes near the middle of the tunnel. 

The lights above them were a dim green and faded, and the walls black as tar. Nothing could be seen and engine growls echoed down and around in a mass of confusion and noise, so much noise. The air rushed in and out of Bilbo's ear, and his grip on Thorin's torso got tighter, the speed was much more violent than even at practice.

"I'm going to die I'm going to die." He murmured in the leather back in front of him, he shut his eyes tight. Somewhere he heard Kili's familiar laugh as a motorcycle rushed past them, then another one. Must have been Fili, and then oh dear Thorin must be pushing 90 by that point.

The Riders spoke to each other with head nods and predictable movements, there were no other signals and yet they synchronized. It was beautiful madness in the never- ending tunnel. 

They made a rough left turn, and were out of the concrete trap and over a bumpy road. In the pitch black of night Bilbo could only guess they were in side brush away from the city, in a field grass with a makeshift gravel road that was tearing at the tires. Then they began making the circles. A bout of nausea punched the blond in the stomach and they were circling about five figures, all of them. It was a dangerous shark den made by the Erebor Riders, their speed had slowed down and somehow it felt more dangerous and the pace continued to drop until a full stop, all of their lights created a halo around the five men in the center.

"Trolls." Thorin spoke the word like a curse. "You took our bikes, but we've caught you now, return them, and take us on in a real race."

"We ain't listenin' to you Thorin _Oakenshield_." The largest one said with humor in his voice. "We hear the Erebor Riders have gone soft, and don' deserve their pretty little rides anymore. Call the other’s Tom."

One of the guys to the right whistled, a high screech.

"The hell did you say." Kili snarled from his red bike.

"Matter o' fact. We will take our chances and steal your flag too." More motorcycles could be heard, and around them five more riders appeared, all with shaved heads and bulging eyes. Panic seized Bilbo, they were being surrounded. 

"You heard William boys, we're fighting'." Another Troll member from the center said as the motorcycles quieted. And then the fight broke out. It was a mass of limbs flying. The Erebor Riders were ruthless and feral, and the Trolls used brute strength.

But the Trolls were still losing, it was a marvel to see from the ground. Bilbo had sunk to his knees and began to crawl towards the center, towards Myrtle 2, when he felt someone grab the collar of his shirt and yank him upwards, Bilbo broke away and started to walk backwards.

"And who are you ferret? Tryin' to cheat?" Oh how ironic it was the William one holding a switchblade to his chest, accusing him of cheating. "You don't have one of their jackets, you a spy?"

"Ferret? No, no no spy." He tried to feel backwards for the familiar handle bars. William's eyes darted to the right, and so did Bilbo's, there was a green flag on one of the nearest vehicles.

Bilbo looked back at the hulking man and realization dawned. Well shit. The larger body lunged forward and Bilbo darted underneath him the other way. He felt a handgrip on his sleeve and a fist aimed towards him. Out of some sheer luck of flailing arms he knocked that switchblade away, though it caught some skin.

William growled and Bilbo fell backwards on his butt.

"No ferret is gonna steal from me. I'll skin you first." Bilbo rolled away from the fist aimed for him and crawled to the other bike. He heard the other man scramble after him in the darkness, and yanked down the flag, he tossed it in the man's face, and William cried out in surprise. 

He could make out the outline stumbling back and fall with a thud and a crack. He looked to see a figure lying most of the ground with it's head against Myrtle 2's frame. A trickle of dark liquid dripped from the dirty hairline.

"Well that's an unlucky fall." He mused to himself, thanking his lucky stars.

The noise of grunts and growls dimmed down. He heard some motorcycles race off and with his enflamed lungs heaving he collapsed to his knees on the ground. Around him probably injured beyond the darkness, the Erebor Riders roared in cheers, Fili and Kili throwing threats at the retreating figures with such foul language- Bilbo just laughed in half hysterics. He saw Thorin kick William's knocked out body from the sport bike, and the leader lifted the flag.

"We win."

\-------------

Bilbo showed up to work with dark rings under his eyes and bruises on his knuckles. He had to wrap up his wrist as ordered by ion because the switchblade nicked him. Lobelia had him waiting tables again and he couldn't bring any cheer to his civility. Tips would be low that day. 

He retreated to the back whenever he could.

At some point Mid-afternoon he made his way to the main guest area and heard Lobelia snarling at some unsuspecting victims.

"We're just looking for Mr. Boggins."

"There is no Boggins here, now take yourselves elsewhere before I call the cops."

"I swear Bofur said this is where he worked. Bombur even said he got the pies from him here."

"I don’t know who either one of the strange named men are. We wouldn't be selling to your kind."

Bilbo almost ran over towards the front because there were Fili and Kili being stared down by a woman half their size with a broom in one hand and the other hand on her hip. They had every right to look nervous. When Bilbo came to their view, Fili noticed first and his face brightened.

"Bilbo! There you are we were looking for you."

"Ah- Hi Fili. Why exactly are you here?" At his job, so getting him fired.

"We are here to gather you up for the celebration party!" Kili explained, and beside him Bilbo saw Lobelia's face take on a cunning visage. Crap.

"At my job? Right now."

"Well" Fili leaned over and whispered. "The Council is giving us the details for race two as well. And Uncle says we should be moving out soon."

"The Council?"

"Yeah the ones who head the Circuit."

"Bilbo Baggins if you don't kick these two out, I will kick you out with them."  
"Lobelia please, I'm on break, they are disturbing no one, just let them stay in the-"

"They are disturbing me. And you are too just by being here and talking to them. See here Mr. Baggins, you are putting yourself in the wrong crowd, and you should be careful. I know about your old racing days, your mother would never shut up about them, as if that trash was godsend. And right now you are bringing your disturbing private life to my-"

"They were here to deliver a message, they can wait outside, and then no harm will be brought," The migraine was building and his patience became a thin chord.

"A message, so now you have ex cons-"

"You do not know them how can you say-"

"Delivering messages for you like you're too good for post in this town-"

"Where are you getting these ideas-"

"I've seen you and your gaggle of vandals driving around, dirtying the road, bringing more of their kind with them, disturbing this small town, giving others ideas-"

"We have not caused any trouble-"

"This is all so you can make that shop of yours isn't it? So you can challenge Otho and I, I always knew you were plotting to do it, I knew it, I did-" 

"What are you talking about?"

“Just like your mother, spending time in the outside world and then trying to bring those wild barbaric ideas to our town-" The chord snapped.

 

" Now that is where I stop you Lobelia. That team of law breakers that you just insulted, just won their first race, and they have more promise and passion in their, their" The anger was bubbling. "Back pockets than you have in your entire body. That's it!" He threw his hands up.

"I don't care about being respectable, oh no don't you interrupt me, I am speaking here, and you will not interrupt me. If I lost my reputation in your opinion, well I can steadily say I don't give, two fiddles. I am tired of sitting here and taking your complaints because I am afraid to take risks and just go for something. Nothing may come of this, I may fail, I may die, or I may actually get somewhere with myself.” He motioned an arm around the diner.  
“Maybe I will come back and open that imaginary bakery that threatens your precious diner, either way I know my time and my skills will no longer be wasted in your presence. And I'm better off without you, and I could do better without this. Hahahaha, I quit. Yes, I quit, and I will change my locks so you can't bend any more of my spoons, and I will ride a motorcycle, and I will I will, go to bars, and hang around men three times my size and possibly unspeakable reputations, but I will be far away from you Miss Lobelia Bracegirdle Sackville-Baggins." He breathed heavy, puffing out his lungs, his cheeks pomegranate and fists clenched. He wrenched off his apron and made towards the door, before he turned around again.

"And by the way. There is nothing wrong with my hair the way it is." The manic grin on his face turned him reckless. "Fili, Kili, lets go my shift is done." Fili and Kili shuffled after him with shocked, but pleasant grins. When outside he felt two arms wrap around his shoulders.

"That was brilliant Bilbo."

"I never even guessed you were so fiery."

"Definitely our wildcard, if you brought that to a race and channeled it all-"

"Amazing, you’re like a pet rabid squirrel-"

Bilbo got lost in who was talking. Did they just call him a pet? What is he a mascot now?

"Oh Dear God." He squeaked. "I just quit my job, i've had that job for years, people will hear about it, they will know, oh god, oh god," His breathing quickened. "What will they say? What will I do? I can't take money out of my savings that's why they're there, to save, I can't what will I-"

" Take a deep breath Bilbo." Fili said, both he and Kili were standing in front of him now, twin concerned looks on their faces. He must have been a sight to behold.

"We're here for you mate, it seemed like you needed that." Kili said with his disarming, bright smile.

"Right." Bilbo inhaled and exhaled. A couple more times. Then his hands stopped shaking. "Right. Let's go."

He climbed on the seat of Myrtle 2, and drove off, helmet neat on his head, unbuckled, and speed limit be damned. He was Bilbo Took Baggins, and right now he felt like a badass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Bilbo finds out; what it really means to be in free for all street racing, where the Erebor Riders have been living in their travels, just how much alcohol the group enjoys consuming, and exactly what did happen five years ago?
> 
> Thanks for reading, a sneak preview can be found on my tumblr tomorrow!


	6. Sienna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Fight or Flight.
> 
> or
> 
> Shit is going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, here's Chapter 6, a little early, and with a whole lot more background thrown in. Really it's all just fast paced from here on out, however, I won't be able to update until Sunday because I'm going to AWP! By then I will have the one-shots updated, and the new chapter.

**Sienna**

_Sometimes bad choices are the only choices one can make. Other times, they are the best choices one could make._

They were going to a restaurant to celebrate. A restaurant. Fourteen of them in one space that requires sitting, and decent manners, and is most likely owned by Bilbo's cousin cousin cousin's cousin. Brandybuck Eatery to be specific.

When Thorin walked up demanding a table for fourteen, the waitress didn't even hold back her surprised look. She looked around at all of them, probably wondering what ruckus they could cause in the average sized restaurant, and her green eyes paused on Bilbo with a tremble of familiarity.

Bilbo gave her a little wave.

"It'll be twenty minutes sir." She handed Thorin the buzzer and scampered away, probably to find a brave volunteer as waiter. 

Dinner was disastrous. It took forty minutes for everyone to decide on what they wanted to order, and despite all attempts of trying to act _normal_ the service still avoided most of the table, instead they continued to pass food and drinks out nearby Bilbo, even if _he_ had to pass the food all the way down the long glossy surface. Sometimes Bilbo caught one of them glancing at the Riders' hair, or Dwalin’s lack of it, with open curiosity. 

Nori kept insisting Bilbo buy a drink.

"Maybe next time." He said, again.

Then the food came. He realized, next to Bombur, he ordered the largest of the meals.

"Don't they call that 'eating with yer eyes'?" Bofur asked from the other side of him. Brandybuck's provided really large platters, and Bilbo hasn't not finished one yet. This time he got the Shepherd's pie because who doesn't like a large plate of potatoes?

"Hmm? Oh no I fully intend on finishing it."  
"Bet you he can't." Nori said over Bilbo to Bofur. The blond just smiled to himself.

Twenty minutes later he was ordering dessert.  
"Where did you put that?" Kili was looking between the clean plate, and at Bilbo's face as if he was some kind of reckoning to behold.

"Damnit Baggins, you made me lose a bet, you asshole”Nori growled, he reached behind Bilbo and paid up to Bofur. 

"Excuse me!" Bilbo exclaimed, affronted that Nori would say something so rude. To his face.

"Don't pay any attention to him, he's a sore loser." Bofur stuck out his tongue at Nori, who glared back. "I for one thank you I'm glad you're like my lucky coin, in a small body." He patted Bilbo atop his head, and Bilbo's cheeks dusted pink.

"Well most people in this town enjoy food, it's kind of a little personal culture of ours, most of our festivals are centered around food, and we throw the best feasts, and usually produce some of the most famous chefs." He glowed with personal pride and nostalgia.

"But you're all so little, I don't think I've come across a tall person in this town yet." Bofur started looking around the restaurant as far as he could see from his chair. Diagonal from the table Bombur had looked up form his plate long enough to offer Bilbo a smile. He too had ordered a dessert, well more like two.

"Genetics? Something in the air?" The blond shrugged as the bread pudding he ordered arrived. 

"Well then we know what to do if we ever have an eating contest." Dwalin said rolling his eyes.

"My bet's still on Bombur," Fili says while in the midst of stealing a fry from Kili's plate. Kili noticed, and bit at his brother's hand. Must have been a normal occurrence because the blond didn’t bat an eyelash.

"Yeah, but could you imagine if Bombur and Bilbo were on a team together?" Bofur looked entirely too excited for Bilbo's taste at an imaginary idea.

"I don't know if I could watch that." Ori said while pushing away the broccoli from his plate to a smaller one. Dori tried to push it back to him, but the young man was very good at pretending it wasn't there at all.

Bilbo finished his bread pudding with hesitance because he knew the others were sneaking glances at him.

"Oi, Bilbo, tell me yer full after all that." Bofur was drinking another cup of beer, Bilbo wanted to say 'Tell me you have had enough beer for the day,' Instead he said:

"Well, I am quite satisfied now. I think I will just have a snack or a small meal later on when I get home." 

"That's it! With the way you put away food, you've gotta put away drinks the same. We're gonna prove it, and you owe me anyways." Nori poked Bilbo in his side, eliciting a yelp.

"Alright, though I tell you I haven’t had much alcohol since my second year of crafting my thesis." Oh that had been a hard year involving bottles of wine, a breakup, and dissatisfaction with every poem, novella, flash fiction, short story, or novel he tried to craft.

"Hey lads. I propose we make a toast. To the team." Gloin was holding up his glass of beer. "We won our last race, oh you should have seen Gimli's face when I told him, he said-"

"A toast," Bofur interrupted, his bottle of Sam Adams raised. "To a successful first race, I feel sorry for the team that is against us next." He nudged Bilbo to raise his own glass of water, and they all clinked them together the best they could for so many. Then they drank whatever substances they had down in several gulps. Bifur seemed enjoy a glass of milk no matter where he went, maybe Bilbo could bond with him over mutual disinterest in alcohol.

Bilbo had set his water down after a sip, his eyes were drawn to the other end of the table where Thorin had been silent for a while. They met eyes, and there was something distant in the other man's gaze, something familiar. Bilbo broke away first. 

He knew that look.

The waitress came around with the bill, and Thorin took the tab. "I've got it." He said in a sharp tone when Bilbo attempted to offer to pay for his share at least.

Bilbo didn't know why he didn't expect them to have a credit card. Then again he didn't know-

"Say where do you guys live anyways?" He hadn't meant to say that _'that'_ loud. 

"Most of us live in this lot called the Blue Mountains, when we're not traveling, when we are traveling, we go where the motels take us." Bofur said breezily.

Bilbo let out a soft 'oh'.

"You'll get a taste of that as The Circuit gets more intense."

"I just got a message from Gandalf concerning the course." Thorin said, he set his flat cell phone on the surface of the table. They hushed in a predictable manner. "It's randomized." There was a resounding groan.

"A day from now we will receive the coordinates for the area where a flag is placed. If we get there first, we get the flag, if another team is there, we have to battle for it. Three other teams will receive the same location as us." 

"So what does that mean?" Bilbo has gotten used to being treated like a know-nothing, so might as well ask the stupid questions.

"That means we have to travel." Gloin clarified.

"Wait we don't just stay put and go to where they tell us?"

"No." Dwalin said as if Bilbo was a dim little soul. Bilbo is starting to think that Dwalin has moved from hating him, to just thinking he was all air between the ears. 

"Right.”

"Seems like this last dinner was a farewell to this town. For a little while, shame I liked the place." Bombur says through munches of his pie  
.  
"Bombur, you just liked the food." Bofur teased.

Bilbo was still stuck on the fact that they have to move. As in travel? As in hit the road?

Bilbo is going to start making a list of the pros and cons of being involved in any of this.  
\------

The day they were to move out, it was raining. A heavy, salty, wet rain that even the gutters had trouble soaking up. Bilbo was still packing when he heard the little jingle of his cell phone. He had been determining what to bring; maybe something to write on during rare moments of inspiration, changes of clothes for sure, some of his cash savings, his father’s Swiss Army knife (pure decoration), maybe a suit?  
No there wasn't a chance of use of that. He rolled and stuffed another pair of jeans in his brown bag and picked up the phone with his other hand.

"Hello?"

"Bilbo, I have a request for you." It was Gandalf, and Bilbo knew he gave the team his number, but how did Gandalf get it? 

And isn't it bad form to skip greetings?

"Hi Gandalf, what is it?" He started to roll up another shirt, and he wrung the sleeves with a bit of rough nervousness.

"You're not taking your Vespa to the race correct?"

"I don't believe Thorin would appreciate it if I did." Really, what was so bad about his Vespa? He’s won trophies with it! It was more than he could say about-  
His rather sour, and misplaced thought was interrupted.

"Well then, mind leaving the keys in the mailbox for me, I have plans for your Vespa."

"But Myrtle-" was his pride and joy, was from his father, was the only constant in his life-

"Don't worry I won't ride it, I think your team just might find it useful to have a spare vehicle that isn't of the Durin Line."

He had no reason to trust him, but when Gandalf hung up Bilbo found himself preparing his spare key to hide.

Out the window, the rain had slowed down.

\--------

 

They met at the Company Warehouse, since it was on the edge of Bree City and the highway.

"Alright stay close, to each other, we are taking Bree, and then getting on the 95, we aren't stopping until we get to Golden Perch. Balin you lead."

Bilbo thanked the stars he filled his tank. Everyone revved up their engines, Balin taking the lead of the pack on his gunmetal grey Durin bike. Bilbo snapped his helmet on and hunched over Myrtle 2, he took a couple deep breaths wishing desperately for a joint, and he only smoked a couple times in college. He did everything in college.

"Ok there Bilbo?" Bofur yelled over the resounding engine warmup.

"Is it really bad that I wish for a smoke right now?" He cracked a smile.

"Ha. Trust me it won't be so bad. It'll go by quick." Bofur pulled on a pair of brown aviator goggles. Bilbo looked around most of them were wearing sunglasses or surprisingly Ori pulled out a slick teal helmet with a visor.

He knew he forgot something. Someone nudged him and it was Bofur handing him another pair of goggles. They were dark brown, leathery, and a bit worn but he took them with a grateful smile.

Bofur winked back, and half the group drove off on to the slick roads.

Bilbo found himself trying to follow the gleaming sienna paint in front of him, Bofur’s twin braids were whipping in the wind at the speed. Most of the company had pulled their hair back into ponytails, or long braids, except Nori of course.  
He was the most relaxed on his purple bike, with his large black sunglasses, riding next to Bofur.

They weren't moving at an insane rate so Bilbo was actually capable of keeping up with most of them. 

At the first light they were stopped at, Fili and Kili had pulled up to either side of a rather expensive car with dark tinting and began making gestures at each other. 

Ori had pulled up next to Bilbo, and waved, which Bilbo returned. Seems he would at least have someone riding with him. He didn't mind the street rule breaking so long as he wasn't left alone.

Was that selfish of him? Ori honked and Bilbo jolted just in time for the green light. 

He's never been out of Bree before. East Farthing's was in the downtown area of Bree. He suspected the world to be like the books, and documentaries. So when they neared the green sign that said: Bree City Limit, he found it hard to breathe. Leaving was something his parents tried. And it hadn’t worked out. Breathe, Breathe, he needed to concentrate on the road, not the ill poisonous emotion clawing at the stomach.

It turned into highway in no time, there were a few littered cars and large trucks, but it was a surprise, the road was just several lanes of concrete, with a bit of green on either side. 

In front of him it seemed Fili and Kili were trying to do their best of racing each other without running too far ahead. Both kept switching lanes, and at some point a quick moving car almost swiped the brunette brother. That was when Thorin moved between the two and did some hand signal, and they slowed to the back of the group right in front of Bilbo.

Bilbo's arms were getting tired. He wasn't cut out for this lifestyle, and to distract from the constant noise of engines and the smell of humid wet road baking in the midday sun, he tried to remember the lyrics of 'Welcome To The Jungle'. It seemed appropriate until he remembered the sexual connotation.

Let's try another song, oh hey they were turning.

Now the inappropriate noises won't leave his head.

Really they won't.

Was that a dead dog carcass? The poor beast.

An eighteen-wheeler was in the lane next to him, practically level with his speed.

A motorcycle pulled up on his other side as they passed one of the merging exits, he assumed it was one of the Riders, but the engine was rather loud. 

Bilbo turned his head and nearly had a heart attack. Next to him in the slow lane a large, very pale man was relaxed on his beast of a motorcycle. He was bald, with numerous scratches and a large burn mark on the side of his face. He looked menacing, even with the sharp black sunglasses.

The scarred man's gleaming lenses were looking down at Bilbo and his silver bike. He smirked, and the cuts on his mouth made him look dastardly. Bilbo couldn't remove his eyes from the man. There was something odd about his posture from his hulking arm, and his massive bike could just eat the blond.

The other man sped up and moved himself in front of Bilbo, the back of his strange leather jacket said 'Gundabad' in sharp thick letters, and off the next exit.

The blond did not hesitate to get past the red Coca Cola truck and squeeze in with the group again.

\------

Bilbo's legs felt like literal jelly when they pulled into the Golden Perch. It was a standard unsanitary looking motel with about three floors, and it bragged on its sign having a 'pool and wifi'. At least he could catch up on his television shows here.  
He stumbled with the rest into the lobby, trying his hardest to ignore the lingering smell of wet socks and mold.

He did remember his Lysol, he will be spraying down every sheet and blanket.

Gloin headed over to the group and started to hand out keys.

"Group up, we've got five rooms." the red bearded man said.

Fili and Kili clung to each other, and then to Thorin, much to the taller man’s exasperation as his nephews held on to each arm.

“You do this every time.” He growled trying to tug his arms away.

Balin and Dwalin seemed to agree in rooming with Oin and Gloin.

Bilbo felt an arm snake around his shoulders. It wasn't Bofur's. Nori was holding up a set of keys.

"I'll room with Bilbo here, do you all a service." It seemed Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur had a room, as well as Dori and Ori (Though Ori had tried to switch with Balin because 'Balin and Dori were good friends', Dori had interrupted before an answer could be given).

"Fine with us, that's the smallest one." Gloin said, and Bilbo didn't know if he should protest or just deal with the hand that was dealt to him. Did no one want to room with him or something?

"We'll meet at the Golden Perch Bar at 9, we have to discuss the next race, and who will be in it if it happens." Thorin said, the insults were really getting obvious when accompanied with a pointed glare. A guy is late one time.

Wait another bar? He really didn't like those. Bilbo thought they should just meet in a library.

\----

"Are you done yet?" Nori said from his sprawled position on one of the motel beds. Bilbo was checking every crevice, so far he had found several roach corpses and a very unpleasant spider. He sprayed all of the surfaces with his disinfectant. The can shook, half empty.

"It's really starting to reek in here with that shit." The red head commented, his hands above him as he scraped a switchblade against a whetstone. Sharpening it.

"Why yes, I think, it is barely passable now." Bilbo pushed Bofur's goggles atop his head and sat on the rough rock hard mattress of his assigned bed. He reached in his bag and pulled out one of the novels he packed.

"You're the one Ori got those books from." Nori said, his voice sounded like it had a bit of wonder to it.

"Yes, he asked me if he could borrow a few. In exchange of course." Bilbo shrugged and tried to find the place he left off.

"Hmm, that's why he's been so happy about his new 'reading' material. Well whatever works for him." Nori was back to that scraping noise. “I thought it was porn.” Bilbo’s heart stuttered, he would never get used to Nori’s blunt way of speaking.

 

"So how long are we here till?" He shut his book in restlessness. Bilbo tried for small talk, he’s had a roommate before, and he knows how this works. 

"Eh, until we win the next round. Or completely tank and fail, which would be shit in only the second race." the other man turned his head to look at the blond. "The other places aren't much better you know. No five stars, all a part the experience of being a dishonored biker gang with a bunch of dwindling old money." 

Bilbo set his book down and crossed his legs. "I've been meaning to ask about that. Why are you all 'dishonored'?"

"We got disqualified a few years ago, took a big loss, and then got framed for rigging a race. We haven't bounced back since."

"Was that in the last Capture the Flag Circuit?"

"Yeah actually. We made it to the final free for all. It was us versus the Red Drakes, the Gundabad, the Sons of Dale and the Woodlanders. Shit went to hell when we had fourteen racers from each team goin' against each other. It was going well until the big fire."

"And what happened in the big fire?" Bilbo suppressed a shudder at the thought of over fifty bikes battling each other in a mess of flames, fuel, and smoke.

Nori stopped sharpening his third blade. He laid there in silence and Bilbo whispered. "You don't have to tell me."

The older man shrugged. “And why the hell not, it doesn’t hurt me much in the end.”

“The guy who made that bike you're riding, and designed the engines for most of our bikes- Thorin's brother Frerin, died in that fire, along with quite a few from the other teams, in fact we got lucky. And because of that we got blamed for the track burning. It was pure sabotage. Anyone could see Frerin’s bike was tampered with, it was the first to blow. That was also the last year a few other Durin Line originators just dropped from the race. We lost our allies in the Iron Hills, and those poncey Woodlanders just turned away from us. We were given several counts against us, our bikes were slandered as unstable trash, and we lost a piece of us along the way.”

"I'm sorry." The words felt like stupid worthless weights from Bilbo's mouth.

"Don't worry about it. It's old news now. You needed to know why you're being treated like shit, and no one else has the balls to tell you. You are in every bit replacing Frerin, and I don't think Thorin's ready for that. Just don't mention it to him that you do know." Nori was looking at him, and there was a small smile lighting up his normally cunning face. "And to be honest maybe you’d get less shit if you didn’t try so hard.”

"Wow thanks, you're really good at making a guy feel better about himself." Bilbo returned his voice dripping with sarcasm. Nori laughed, it was short, and not very hearty but it was the first time he laughed around Bilbo and not at him.

"Fili and Kili were right, you do have a little bite. Like a Pomeranian or something. Don't take it as an offense. You're different than us." The man shrugged, a sharp smile playing on his face. "Coming from the person who's interacted the most with the outside out of this whole group, I've been through stick in their asses high society and the sketchy underground , and I can tell you the best way to survive in a place you are unused to is to remain unpredictable."

\-----------

At the Golden Perch Bar, they sat in a crowded back table, and talked the best they could without shouting over the grungy music about the coordinates, which were apparently only three miles from their current spot, and the best strategy they could use which involved Bilbo staying _out of the way_. Thorin said they aren't allowed to make a move until their sponsor tells them it is legal to. And then Gloin orders a round of drinks.

Bilbo takes his, not wanting to be an outlier again.

And then another round comes.

And then a couple more are shoved at him.

And he's trying to match the others, but now he's feeling very warm in his chest, and his eyes were getting a little hazy. The room was moving without him, and his mouth felt glued shut. 

When he was drunk his emotions varied from two settings: dead silent, or loud self-proclaimed life of the party. He would thank himself in a couple days he didn't become the latter.

Instead he sat looking at the table in front of him, responding to anyone who talked with him in grunts, and shoulder shrugs. What he thought he said were poetic things. What really came out was:

No. Uh. Eh. Unf. Kay. 

The only thing poetic he said all night was when he grabbed Nori by the forearm, and said 'Thanks for telling me why your soul is so broken.' Man he had to write that shit down.

More than one pair of eyes set on him like he was crazy. Bofur looked between the two with a tight lipped expression, and in delayed reaction ruffled Bilbo's hair.

"I think the lad is piss drunk now. He's singing soliloquies" the hat owner laughed amiably.

Bilbo’s face was stoic against his will.

Then the team started getting into stories about their 'romantic' experiences while piss drunk.

Dwalin had woken up in a bed with three women. He then laughed and clapped Thorin on the back and added "And then I realized one of them was Thorin."

Nori proclaims he's had several different 'adventure's in one night. The night he borrowed Dori's bike. Dori looked positively appalled.

Balin admitted to one moment with his ex-wife and him and a casino.

Gloin said his wife took none of his nonsense even when she herself was drunk.

Bofur woke up naked in a bathtub with a man wearing a green pool floaty, also equally naked. He did still have his favorite hat on.

Bifur grunted and signed something with rude rutting gestures that mostly everyone laughed at.

Oin said he woke up drunk, at work in the hospital, at three am, hugging his stethoscope. He's married to his work, and only that.

Ori passed on his story because Dori was glaring at him, just daring the young man to speak.

Dori said it was not proper for him to share such a person experience. He pulled a coy look Bilbo never would have pinned on the man, and mentioned a lovely woman he met at the bar in his much younger days.

Bombur mentioned a lass before he was sworn to his fiance who was the definition of the song ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’.

Fili and Kili swore they stumbled out just in time from the midst of a cult orgy ritual. Bilbo did not believe them, and he stated so with the most dead look.

Then they challenged him to speak. Not even holding pack on their giggles.

"Well there was this one time I had gone to a party in college." He should not be saying this. "I was a part of the Legalization of 'Marijuana' club, we basically argued for medical marijuana while really just wanting it for our own personal stashes. It was getting a little difficult to find sellers- Anyways, so one of my friends made what he called his 'Magical Elixir' I did not know what was in it, all I knew was that the world had changed colors, and I woke up on the living room floor of the Proudfoot twins- and I should not be telling this." His mind caught up with the story. He was never proud of his very few one-night stands. They were just terrible, for momentary gratification, not at all respectable and made for the most awkward next mornings.

"You mean you've actually had multiple-" Kili made a rude hand gesture as he spoke. Well damn Bilbo's mind–to- mouth filter was gone. He nodded cheeks burning.

"I thought you were still like a twenty year old virgin." Fili said. Bilbo noted the little twitch Ori made across from him.

"Twenty- eight. And no. I've had relationships before, well two. And a few bad choices." Boy it was getting warm in this chair. And the bar was getting louder, and he thinks Thorin is glaring at him for just existing all over again, and he leans closer to Nori before jabbing him.

"Ow, the fuck Bilbo?" The redhead was hardly flushed, but he seemed tipsy enough, and he almost chocked in the middle of his swig.  
"I need to key. I want to go back to the room."

Nori's eyes looked over Bilbo, then around the crowded bar, where a few shifty figures kept glancing at their table beyond all the noise. Once again the women were fewer.

"I'll lead you there. C'mon I'm bored of beating these guys in their own game." The much taller man slurred something to the group and taking Bilbo back before he pukes, or loses the key, and Thorin glared hard at them and murmured out 'Do what you wish.'.

Nori's hand felt warm on Bilbo's back as he lead him out.

\-----------

Pounding his head was pounding. The light burned through those forsaken cheap curtains, and his tongue felt heavy and dry with cotton. What time was it even- where was he? His limbs were numb, his right arm was asleep, and the scratchy sheets did not feel good against his bare skin.

First thing wrong- bare skin.

Second thing wrong- he tried to move his numb arm and something was on top of it. Bilbo cracked open his normally wide clear eyes and turned his head with much difficulty. He was met with a large amount of long, loose red hair. Now he his eyes were wide open. He tugged his arm from under the hard skin of the also bare torso of the other occupant and didn't dare look to see if either one of them were naked. He tried to roll away and almost rolled off the bed. And arm shot out and steadied him.

"Try not to move so much why don't cha?" Nori's voice was rough like gravel. Bilbo nodded in response and noted he wasn't being looked at.

Now it was time to think of the worst thing that could have happened… Nope that causes internal panic, don’t move Bilbo and maybe no one will notice.

Well he remembered leaving. And some of the stumbling back. Nori supporting him up. Bilbo reaching into the man's hair and commenting on how he didn't understand it at all.

Then it was fuzzy.

Oh this was embarrassing. He was afraid to ask and know the answer to why they were in the same bed with, phew he was wearing underwear, he just really hoped he doesn’t assume the wrong thing. This was why he doesn’t drink alcohol. Maybe Nori doesn’t know or remember-

Ignorance is bliss. Bilbo pushed himself up by his palms, arms still numb and shaky.

His cheeks were warm apples and he mumbled out "Going to shower."

Nori grunted back and didn't move as Bilbo tripped his way to standing.

There was a knock at the door, and shielding his eyes he shuffled to the door. He opened it forgetting himself.

"Hey Bil- boo…" Kili drew out the last part as he looked down at what he's seen before. That didn't mean Bilbo didn't feel shamed or embarrassed.

"Yes?"

"Just coming to tell you guys about continental breakfast, and an abundance of aspirin from Oin. But you can take your time. I'lll take the waffles though." Kili wiggled his eyebrows, his eyesight now on the pristine state of Bilbo's bed and shut the door.

"Hey breakfast," Nori was sliding on an old t-shirt and lazily buckling his jeans. "See you later, I need some waffles." 

He walked past Bilbo without a word. When the door closed Bilbo hit his head against the solid frame.

Then he remembered his headache.

And it hurt.

 

\---------

 

Riding bikes with a waning hangover was hell. It became the deepest pit of hell when the rainstorm came upon them while they were circling some useless crater off of the highway.

"The directions said here." Thorin huffed frustrated. He had been avoiding looking at Bilbo since Kili made lewd assuming comments that morning at the tail end of breakfast of the morning-that-shall-not-be-mentioned after Bilbo emerged, as clean as he could get.

"Thorin." Dwalin said stopping his friend mid pace. "Give me your map."  
Thorin shoved the map into Dwalin's chest as the first drops of rain started to fall.

"Thorin. You are a mile off. We need to go through the Misty Canyon."

Thorin sucked in a breath, resembling a steaming dragon.

"Oh." He said. And the rest of the group groaned.

"Who gave Uncle the map?" Fili whined slumped over the front of his bike.

"Thorin's terrible with directions. Sometimes he can get away with it. Most of the time, he's a fish outta water." Nori whispered into Bilbo's ear. Bilbo cracked a smile, it was good to see the great Thorin mess up every once in a while.

"Something funny Nori, Mr. Baggins?" Thorin growled. Ok now Bilbo was not the only one laughing, he didn't even chuckle!

"No-No,"

“Shit now I know how you feel.” Nori grumbled. Thorin sent them another cutting glare. “Ok, sheesh.”

"We should get moving Thorin it's looking like the rain will catch us." Balin said glancing between the tall leader, and the small spare.

"Let's move out, the sooner we can put a dent in the pass, the sooner we can find the next Inn." Thorin sat on his bike and started up without warning.

“What’s up his ass?” Nori said starting up his own machine.

“I’ll tell you what isn’t.” Kili cackled rocketing off.

It didn't rain, it poured on them. Bilbo's temporary motorcycle jacket was heavy on his sticky wet arms, and his curls were sopping over the top of his borrowed goggles. 

They continued to ride on through the pass, through the cracking drum beat of thunder, and sheets of white droplets. Balin made a motion at Thorin and the two seemed to signal at each other a lot, unitl Bifur came between them with his recognizable yellow bike and did a motion…with both hands.

Thorin made a left at the next gap in the high reddish canyon road. Squeezed there were a few dried up shops from the older days when people would ride through.

They rolled up to the front shivering wet cats. Bilbo saw it, hanging in the doorway, disguised as a tattered old cloth. The flag. He smacked Bofur on the arm, out of words in the teeth chattering rain, and Bofur glared at him, he had been rather testy with Bilbo today for some reason, before following the line of sight of his point.

The message got across enough. They had found the next flag, and without another team. There was a reason to smile in this weather.

Then there were other sounds of engines.

Bilbo turned around, and there was one of the biggest sport bikes, it had to have been a cruiser, under a man who put Bombur's girth to shame.

"Why if it isn't _Thorin Oakenshield_ and the pack of misfits." The large man laughed. Behind him there were many starved looking smaller men with their own Ninjas.

"Goblin." Thorin said.

"It's the Great Goblin to you, and I'm so glad you found the flag for us. Now I know of a rider who who pay a lot for that flag, and something you have."

Thorin just glared back at the man, silent.

"A certain pale leader of the Gundabad Orc Pack." Bilbo's mind thought back to the rider on the highway.

"Well I'm not just handing it to you."

The Great Goblin laughed, and so did his minions. "And where will you go with your shoddy little trinkets."

There was the signal. One of the few Bilbo was taught. What Bofur dubbed 'Get the hell out of here' signal.

Bilbo noted that Ori had the new flag shoved hastily in his bag. Thorin spoke again, with the smallest most attractive smirk.

"You'll have to catch me first to get it." Oh if that didn’t send a shiver down Bilbo’s spine. And they all drove straight at the Goblins, and straight past then and left through the ravine.

And Bilbo thought the first night was bad. No it was absolutely terrifying having to drive the motorcycle himself, he hadn't pushed 70 before and it was daunting on the slick roads. His tires gripped the road well but even they would twitch.

Plus the faster he went, the more everything just looked like sheets of silver and white, with blobs jutting from the ground.

A black Kawasaki was right on his back tire. Bilbo risked a glance back and saw the rider was wearing a helmet, and the pursuer reached into his pocket. Bilbo recognized the glint of a switchblade. The rider was crawling up, he looked to be aiming for Bilbo's back tire.

Shit.

Bilbo looked ahead again, his mouth dry, head pounding, and need for survival great. Ahead there was a crack in the cliff. To the right, he didn't know where it led, but the tight space was his best bet. He couldn't keep driving forward.

So in a risky move he leaned right and squeezed into the dark space.

There were many jagged rocks sticking out, and the Goblin Rider was still behind him. 

Still Bilbo, you are of no use if your hands start to shake now.

Deep breath, ignore the rain, ignore the pain.

 

He was back on the Vespa Course of 2006 six. Weaving through cones only a couple feet from each other. Avoiding the rocks that stuck out in the path. It was ever long and getting darker, but his eyes remained sharp.

He heard the squelched of tires and a loud crash. The sound of a bike on it's side.

He could breath again. And he slowed down as he neared the end of the ravine. Nothing was following him now, the collapsed bike getting further away. He exited the other side of the cliff. Alone, in a field of tall wheat stalks. He slowed his bike, in the distance was the dark form of a broken shack.

Bilbo ran inside of the shack, his warning bells going off but he needed to find where he was, get somewhere dry, try and get his bearings. Inside there were a pile of makeshift sheets, and something glinted on the dust caked ground. It reeked of mold, no one could have been living there now.

And that's strange. There was a gold cloth thrown over the glinting object. He reached over and picked up and old rusted key. With the other hand he lifted the fabric.

The make, and the red lining.

It was a flag. A gold flag, he hadn't seen one yet. But it was a circuit flag all the same. He shoved the key in his pocket and held the cloth in his fingers, then he folded the small rectangle into a neat square and tucked it beneath his wet jacket.

He just found them a flag.

He heard an engine coming closer, lights were shining on the shack, and he crept from the back of the shack, around the side through the itching tall weeds.

The other engine was cut. But bright lights shone on his body illuminating him.

"What's This?" Said a hissing, croaked voice. Myrtle 2 wasn't far.

He turned his head and saw a sickly looking man, middle aged with scraggly hairs, large bloodshot eyes and skeletal limbs. His clothes were old ragged shirt and jeans.

"What's this?" The voice repeated looking direct in Bilbo's eyes with milky corneas.

"My name is Bilbo Baggins." He said. The other man narrowed his eyes.

"Gollum wants to know what Bagginses is doing out heres?"

“I took a wrong turn." Bilbo started backing away from the other. The spindly man took a step forward, he was reaching in his long matted pocket. Now Bilbo's warning bells were going off.

“Wrong turn, out heres. Gollum heard the Ereborses were arounds. Gollum was told they make wrong turns. And steal something. Are you a thief Bagginses?" the man, he guessed Gollum, gnashed his teeth at Bilbo. "Gollum was tolds to kill whoever comes in his house."

"Told to kill- by who?" Bilbo wanted to know who had it out for any of the Riders, if there was someone out there ready to have them all killed.

"None of its business. Gollum will stabs it anyways." There was a large knife, _who the hell kept a machete_ , in Gollum's hand.

"Lets play a game Bagginses. Let's play manhunt. I counts, one, twos, ten-"

Run Baggins, Run. Fight or Flight, this is flight.

Bilbo turned around and ran. 

The weeds and stalks of wheat smacked him, but he kept moving in his path. Where the hell did he park? He had to find it. He heard heavy breathing behind him, and a gleeful cackle.

"We is going to breaks its bones. Breaks its bones and cuts its fingers. Little thief, little lost thief." The man was singing a twisted jingle, it was straight out of a horror movie, and Bilbo was the protagonist who could-

His body met the ground in a tangle over a fallen bark. He struggled to scramble up, and a body collided with his. He flipped onto his back and kicked his boot into the other man's stomach, glad for the steel toes. The man dropped his machete and Bilbo knocked it further away in desperation. White bony fingers wrapped around his throat, trying to throttle him.

Bilbo struggled, his lungs burning and the dirt digging into him, he dug his shoe up in to the man’s stomach again knocking Gollum off.

The key clinked to the wet dirt. And Gollum looked down at it then his face turned from deranged enjoyment to anger. Pure crazed anger. Bilbo looked at the key, and picked it up, and found the energy to run again.

"THIEF!" Gollum screeched after him, and he fucking ran. He fucking ran.

Myrtle 2, bless her, was waiting a few feet away. He never was a sprinter and his lungs were collapsing as he gasped for breath. He hopped on his bike, and said screw it to the engine warm up. He never switched gears so fast.

He didn't know where he drove, it was just away from that hell.

He was pushing 90 when he saw the canyon walls. Was he back at the entrance?

Several familiar bikes burst from it. Relief flooded his body, and he didn’t try to hold back the natural smile that crossed his face.

He tailed behind, seeing no sign of any of the Goblin gang.

It took thirty minutes before the Riders seemed to taper, slow down, and pull to the side of the road.

Ori hopped off his bike first, and held up the green flag. The group roared with cheers, and claps to his back. Bilbo killed his bike switch, and hopped off, all the dizzy tiredness catching up to him.

"Bilbo! We thought we lost you back there! What happened?"

"How did you get back?" Fili asked, his face drenched with sweat, he was bent over hands on his knees. 

"Took- Took a- Took another short cut." Bilbo wheezed out through the vertigo. He grasped for an answer, and for air.

"Bilbo are you ok?" He heard Ori ask with a wavering voice. They got closer in a huddle around him, until Oin bellowed "Give him some air."

He nodded and held up a finger as if to say ‘wait’. He stumbled from the group, fell to his knees, and vomited.

His vision was darkening, and the world was spinning. The blond wiped his mouth, coughs heaving from his lungs. "I'm fine. Just, just, recovering."

"You are not fine, someone get him a water." Thorin bellowed, Bilbo assumed it was his shadow looming over him. Bilbo sat back on his heels right when an open bottle was handed to him.

He tried to gulp it down without choking.

“Someone's coming!" Fili yelled, and Bilbo's mind shut down. Really, now?

"Get on your bikes." Thorin ordered. The blond tried to stand, he was shaking like a leaf, and his throat was throbbing with the ghost feeling of fingers around it.

He made it three steps.

And the last thing he looked at was the sun rising in the sky.

Then it all went to dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I don't like to torture Bilbo I swear- I will definitely post a rough preview of Chapter 7 ,while I'm out at AWP, on tumblr :).
> 
> Next Chapter-  
> Some advice from Gandalf, a bar fight, and Bilbo may just find out what went down between him and Nori, and things between him and Thorin get a bit more heated, whether that's a positive or not we'll see~


	7. Midnight Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's ok to want things-  
> Like to not go to a bar every once in a while.  
> Or anymore, at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THe long awaited Chapter 7! Woo, by the way those who answered Chapter 5's questions correctly, the one-shots are up for viewage.
> 
> So Chapter 7 is the last in Arc 1, but it is also the time for a new question!
> 
> See the end for more info!
> 
> Warning there be a bit of homophobic language, and the beginning of some Bagginshield.  
> Brace yourselves. It just keeps going.

**Midnight Blue**

 

Bilbo had come to terms with the high probability that he died. He blinked through bleary eyes, it took a total of ten minutes for him to register where he was. The room he was in was one of the most comfortable plush settings ever. The beds were impossibly soft with thick white cushions and the area itself was spacious. No motel roaches and questionable smells.

“But I’m not dead am I?” He would be very disappointed if he died so unaccomplished.

"No but you were suffering from shock, and dehydration, along with the occasional mild panic attack.” Gandalf's face took on a quirk of humor, and Bilbo startled at the fact that he missed the small detail that someone was in the room. 

"You have to try to take better to take care of yourself Mr. Baggins, your entire team was in such outrage they actually allowed me to bring them here, an exact institution, as Mr. Bifur put it, ‘that was against everything they believe in’."  
Right now that raises so many questions. 

"Where am I?" Bilbo asked his voice still rough from disuse.

"You’re in Rivendell, in the inn of The Last Homely house owned by my friend Elrond."

“How did you get here?”

“I happened to looking ahead at the right time.”  
Bilbo’s brow furrowed.

“How long have I been here Gandalf? What about the Circuit? Have I slowed everyone down?” Bilbo could see it now, Thorin ready to torture him with Vitamin C and threats of constant days on the road to make up for the time they missed. The thought was terrifying.

Gandalf silenced the blond by raising a thick grey eyebrow.

“All in due time Bilbo, I will let them know you’re awake, Oin has been taking care of you, he will most likely be in first, it will be a few minutes.” And the old man vanished.

Bilbo clenched his hands at the sheets, his palms were still bruised and stung under the pressure. But he was not as sore as he expected, after what happened-  
 _The race, The Goblins, Gollum._  
The flag! The key! Bilbo lifted his sheets and saw he was in a white shirt and clean jeans. Time to panic, he sprung out of bed despite the protests of comfort and searched until he came across a folded bundle. There in between the clean clothes were the gold flag and key.

Who found it and left it there?

He didn’t know if he wasn’t anyone to know about them, it was his secret to carry, there was an unsettled aura about them, like he took something.  
He wasn’t a thief.  
He folded the clothes back over them when he heard a knock and then the door open.

Oin was still wearing his standard biker clothes, but there was a stethoscope around his neck, and he was wearing reading glasses.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed until I’ve had a look at you.” Oin scolds like Bungo used to. He motioned for Bilbo to sit and began to examine the blond’s palms, his ankles, throat, chest-

“The wounds and bruises have healed enough, you should be cleared to ride again. No racing though.” Oin squinted his eyes at Bilbo’s exposed neck. “I don’t know what Goblin member you were fighting, but they were dirty little cheats to fight so cowardly.” Bilbo nodded his eyes averted.  
“Thank you,”  
“What?” Oin asked voice a notch up. Bilbo stopped from rolling his eyes.

“Thank you!” He shouts, and the older man smiles.

“No problem laddie, just try to stay out of fights you can’t handle.” Oin paused from leaving the room. “Better yet try to avoid most things you can’t handle.” The dark eyes seemed to pity him.

 

The next visitors to his room were Fili and Kili, they didn't bother with knocking and also sat on his bed occupying the space.

"Bilbo! Oin told us you were up, you freaked us all out there, fainting. He told us you'd been attacked."

"Which is why we decided we were going to be your guards from now on."

"Can't have our Pomeranian-"

"Thought it was squirrel?"

"Right that's what Nori calls him, anyways can't have you getting hurt again. And freaking out the team."

"Is Thorin mad at me?" Bilbo blinked in surprise that he even said that first.

Fili shook his head at Bilbo like he was stupid. "Who Uncle? He's been pacing outside your room all morning."

"Hasn't the guts to come in though-"

"Shame."  
The door opened again. A tiny part of him hoped it was said leader of the team.

"Alright out you two-" Nori snuck up behind the brothers and smacked them In the back of the head.

"Leave Bilbo alone." And somehow the copper haired has effectively kicked out the two, though he received a glare and an 'I’m watching you' gesture from each brother.

Nori peered down at Bilbo, and the blond shuffled at the indifference in the glance.

"So what did happen?" The above hazel eyes a single eyebrow was raised, the silver ring glinted under the ceiling lamp.

"I took a wrong turn and ran into a Goblin member." He doesn't know why he doesn't want to talk about Gollum.  
No he did, he doesn't want to have to tell the whole story.

Nori leans in, setting him and the blong in a staredown, and Bilbo tried to not waiver.  
"You're lying and I don't know why." Nori said in a low voice, he seemed confused for once.  
Point for Bilbo.  
Ugh but it did not feel awesome.

The door opened again and Bilbo wanted to beat up his pillow.  
Bofur entered with Bifur. Bifur was holding something, and Bofur went from concerned to guarded in under two seconds flat.  
Nori pulled back. His eyes dancing with mischief, he patted Bilbo on the shoulder twice.

"See you later." He brushed past Bofur as he went, in a friendly close proximity, though Bofur looked steady to ignore him.

"Hey Bilbo-"

Bifur walked ahead of his cousin ignoring the 'Hey wait your turn!' and placed an object on Bilbo’s lap. It was a pair of brand new leather goggles. Bilbo picked them up and felt the glossy cut material-

"He wanted to get you some real goggles, the ones I gave you didn't last long after the other day."

Bilbo’s fingers kept running over the material. "Thank you." His voice as honest as it could be when he looks up at the scarred mute.

Bifur grunts and makes a few gestures at Bilbo that looked angry, and walked out.

"Ah and he said take better care of yourself- anyways Bilbo! I'm sure you've even bothered with the same stuff so I'm here to take you outside of your room instead." The dimples reappeared.

"Yes that would be amazing!" He was all too in a hurry to get out.

And of course Thorin was outside the door, he seemed startled when it opened and see it was Bilbo who exited.  
They stared at each other.

"You're recovered." Thorin starts his eyes roving over Bilbo’s form in the most uncomfortable way.

"I suppose so," he tries to sound nonchalant and just sounds like a stuttering idiot.

Thorin’s eyes studied his twitchy face.

"Good, then I will see you tonight at the Misty Tavern."

"Uh, yes? Why are we going?"

"Team meeting."

"Right oh right the team, yes see you there." Bilbo did not grab Bofur by the arm, but he tried his best to get away from the unnerving older biker and his sexy smirk.

Bofur had his own damn assessing smile on his face.

"Whatever you are going to say? No just no!"

"I wasn't going to say anything." Bofur hangs around Nori too much.  
Until Nori started hanging around Bilbo.  
And Bofur had started getting-  
It was a literal spark in his brain. He veered to face Bofur trapped in the lovely glass elevator of the hotel with the man.

He put on his most superb accusatory stare. Time for the most school girlish thing he could say.

"You like Nori!" Bofur clamped a hand over Bilbo’s mouth, he was pinker than his face is after several drinks.

The elevator door opened to guests, and they separated. They moved around the crowd and the marble lobby almost distracted Bilbo. 

"Don't you? You want a relationship with Nori." He said a harsh whisper  
Bofur picked up the pace. Bilbo was almost jogging to keep up. They exited a pair of glass doors to the back porch. The ex-baker gaped at all of the wooden arches, the large fountain, the floating soft colors of flowers littered across. It was a gardeners paradise.

"This is beautiful-"

Bofur shrugged, "It's alright if you like that sort of thing."

Bilbo went back to the task at hand, his fingers ghosting over a nearby lily petal. 

"Why won't you tell him?" 

Bofur's eyes widened to full moons.

"I can't tell him are you crazy! We have been friends for years, he's my best friend, and I've seen him type." The biker’s hands were in his jacket pockets pushing them like flaps.

"What's his type?" Bilbo raised both eyebrows at Bofur, the excuse sounded a little weak. Clearly Bofur would be most people's type, once you got past the hat and the strange hair, he was a charming man wasn't he? Or did Bilbo just find the charm in everyone?  
A nice smile is a winning point right?

"We'll he likes things he can get one over on, and one time flings." As Bofur said it his corner vision darted to the short man by him, Bilbo did not miss that.

"You can't mean me? Then?" For emphasis his palm was placed over his chest. Bilbo was no ones type, unless they liked twitchy, though he did bristle at being referred to as perpetually ‘easy’.  
"No no, we aren't going to speculate that." He said after Bofur’s silence greeted him.

"What makes you think it's impossible?" He continued.

"I don't want it to be a one time thing!” Bofur’s face translated to downright uncomfortable at that moment. 

"Maybe that's what he wants too. I'm not saying I know him, but maybe he's such a flighty figure because he's looking for somewhere to land."

Bofur’s smile wasn't bright and easy at all. "Thanks, but not likely Bilbo, you can come inside when you want." 

Then he left back to the lobby, and Bilbo was by himself in the garden thinking that weighed on Bofur more than he expected. 

Bilbo started to wander down the pathway of the garden, identifying some of his favorite flowers. His father would have enjoyed the garden. Especially the peonies, those were his dad’s children personified into pink petals.  
"Bilbo! I was looking for you," Ori had scurried up, wearing his trademark cardigan in red, and some dark slim fits. It was a good look, Bilbo considered. The guy could give him tips-  
"I like your cardigan." He greeted trying to be honest with himself. Ori looked down and tugged at the end.

"Thanks, I knitted it myself." They exchanged a friendly enough smile. "Anyways, I had gotten you a lunch, since you must be hungry," the youth held up a plastic bag. Bilbo’s stomach lurched with a growl, 

"Right. Thank you so much," he let himself be led to the dining area of the lobby.

"I didn't really know what to get you, Oin suggested soup so I found a p;ace that served some Chicken corn chowder I hope you're not allergic to anything." Ori started taking out the large container, and Bilbo was very grateful his friend paid attention to his appetite. 

"No no I'm not, that's perfect," he opened the steaming container and noted that Ori had his own sub sandwich, devoid of any lettuce. He tried to hold back his chuckle. "You really don't like any vegetables do you?"Ori looked abashed. 

"No, I never grew up into liking them much, they're too, I can get the nutrients elsewhere I looked it up." Ori grimaced from across the small round table. The dining area was as lavish as the rest of the inn, with warm colors and the many beams and arches were carved with flowers. He was too hungry to observe however. 

They had conversation good enough, discussing or sometimes arguing the couple of titles Bilbo has lent that Ori read.

"-I don't know if I actually see any sexual connotation when Jack is in the shower-"

"Yes but the way his thoughts are leading they just seem too intimate, you have to think outside the box Bilbo, and they say my mind isn’t in the gutter enough."

Bilbo blushed, "I think plenty of such things!"

"Oh really?" Ori teased, his spoon pointed at Bilbo’s nose. 

"Yes I do believe I've got quite an understanding mind when it comes to such- such, trysts."

"True," Ori looked contemplative."I heard about you and Nori."

"That's different I don't even know what happened, from the looks of it nothing except the lack of clothing." Bilbo sniffed, crossing his arms.  
Ori shrugged. "Nori often says most people have ridden his pony."

“How can you talk about your brother that way!" Bilbo said amusement laced in his voice.

"You should ask him though, it could clear up a lot of things for quite a few people."

"I don't see how what we did is anyone's business-"

"You two, we’re leaving the inn tonight, heading to another motel and bar." Bilbo did not hear Dwalin coming until the man spoke. His surly dark eyes were looking between the two friends as they ate lunch.

"And you are needed by Gandalf in an hour." The tattooed man growled at Bilbo.

"Ok thanks Dwalin." Ori said with a sweet smile, and Dwalin’s disposition changed completely from glaring at Bilbo like a puffed up alpha male to Ori with-

Bilbo knew he was a romantic and he should spend his mediocre writing talents under a pen name crafting lusty novels about a life he would never lead when he was imaging the expressions between the two. It was mush a figment of his imagination but maybe that's why Dwalin hated him because he thought Bilbo was treading on his territory.

What? Was he the team third wheel that no one actually wanted but they believed he was ‘wanted’.

But Bilbo had a feeling Ori was no one’s territory to be claimed underneath that wiry exterior. The two will definitely be the main characters of his romance novel.  
He will just have to change their names of course.

Bilbo found Gandalf in the garden he had wandered in hours before, the sponsor was standing with another just as tall man with sleek long chestnut hair that somehow blended well with his prim expensive grey suit. Bilbo thought in despair of the suit he didn’t pack.

"Ah Bilbo, this is my friend Elrond, he is also another member of the Council, and the owner of this fine inn that he has allowed you to stay in."

"Oh um thank you, it's quite nice to meet you." There was signature twitch of the quirked right corner of his mouth.

"Gandalf told me you are a part of the Erebor Riders."

"Yes-"  
Bilbo drew up his shoulders a bit, unable to tell if it was a criticism or a simple speculation. Elrond was more unreadable than Thorin, or maybe more intimidating. The man’s prussian eyes focused on Bilbo with alarming clarity.

"They should be grateful for what they receive."

Bilbo was ready to ask for clarity when a pacifist Gandalf spoke.

"They are very grateful you allowed them to stay here Elrond, even if they don't show it." Both older men exchanged considering looks with each other. Elrond did not look like he believed Gandalf, and the blond was sort of entertained by that.

"Bilbo why don't you return to the group I believe they were expecting you."  
It took a moment before he realized there was a required team meeting he did not want to go to.

\---------

Screaming was not wise when in a full dirty bar at a long table with the only water at said table in front of you.

Did it always have to be a bar?

Why were there so many bars?

Why did they torture him like this?

It was the same as all the rest, dim lighting loud conversations lots of alcohol to be consumed.

Apparently food as well, half decent fried food that he did not want to eat but would for the sake of his empty stomach.

"We have to travel to the city of Mirkwood soon-" Thorin said and they all groaned and started talking or complaining about this city Bilbo has not heard of.  
The smallest man was too busy watching the door.

Three new patrons had entered the bar Bilbo watched them instead. They varied in height but not so much in bulk, from far away in the lighting they seemed to have twisted cuts or something malformed with their faces. The best way Bilbo could sum it up was that they were the definition of the bikers everyone stayed away from: they looked like they had seen some things.

The one in the middle who approached the bar was the pale man from the highway.The same bald intimidating man. It sent a bad taste to Bilbo’s mouth and the start of a sick flop at the bottom of his half filled stomach. It flipped 360 degrees when beetle black eyes roved over to the table.

His companion also glanced over and more expressive sneers crossed their cheeks.

The main focus of Bilbo’s attention had the smallest superior smirk. Then his eyes met Bilbo's and he truly felt like a spec of softened dirt.

_Don't come over_. He prayed in his head. His empty plate was suddenly very interesting. 

"Thorin Oakenshield, interesting seeing you in these parts."

The table was very silent when the pale man spoke, his hand hands clenched but body relaxed as if he wasn't harassing a group of thirteen dangerous men.

Thorin didn't bother with playing it off like Bilbo hoped, he stood quick almost knocking over his chair.  
"You should walk away Azog." His blue eyes had gone dark, hate dripping off of every word.

"While you still have a chance asshole," Kili piped up like the hothead Bilbo knew him to be. The others had equal quiet faces of fury.

"As if we are afraid of the Erebor riders. No one fears you-" one of the thinner compatriots said.

"-Nor are you fags much of a challenge." Continued the other one with a sneer.  
Bilbo sucked in a breath, Fili and Kili had stood up by Thorin.  
This isn't going to go well.

"Control your pups Durin, you of all should know when you're outnumbered." This Azog guy said. Bilbo them need how quiet and attentive quite a few of the other patrons got since the conversation started. The tension was palpable and thick. 

"Then we will leave." Balin tried putting a hand on Thorins elbow. Thorin jerked it away but nodded to the group, his fist was still clenched as they all started to stand and leave. Gloin leavings hasty check.

"Word came back about a thief." The pale man continued.

The word thief screamed in a mangled voice of despair and fury played in repeat in Bilbo’s mind.

"Who is he calling a thief?" Fili growled.

"None of us took what isn't ours, you and the Red Drakes on the other hand are cheap in every sense of the word."

The smirk slipped from Azog’s face. "I don't think the Erebor riders can talk about quality after the fire your pathetic rider caused." Bilbo felt sick all over again. Dwalin was now physically holding Thorin back by the elbows.

"Oakenshield, I challenge you to a Melee."

"Deal-"

"Thorin no we should just relay." Balin suggests pushing himself to the front next to the leader.

"It is my fight, and this scum will regret challenging me." Thorin spat escaping Dwalin’s grip and standing straight. Two impressive figures standing across from each other, each with the ability to probably snap Bilbo in half."Where?"

"The Gundabad Ravine-" the twisted scarred grin split Azog's face again. "In six hours."

Bilbo doesn't know when they left back to their beat up motel but he felt relieved by the distance from Azog.

The silence amongst the team sunk into their bones and carried them to a night without sleep.

 

\-------

"What's going on?" Bilbo rasped the next morning, his voice rough from lack of sleep, leaning his weight on Myrtle 2.

"Thorin is racing Azog in a one on one, they will go to the Gundabad Ravine, and do three rounds around the track. It's a dangerous place, the ground is full of sharp turns, and it's unpaved. Plus I don't trust them it's too far from the highway, too far from any safety. But Thorin has ridden in worse conditions.” Balin slid on his sunglasses with the shake of his headand switched gears. “C’mon we’re heading off.”  
They were apparently leaving no matter the results, Bilbo adjusted the gold flag underneath his jacket, making sure it was folded and hidden to his person.  
He kicked off after Balin.

 

The Ravine was more of a desolate deathtrap. It was dry and the ground reddish just like the cliff. There were pikes in the ground with dark flags on them waving in the low breeze of early morning. 

They were surrounded by Orcs, outnumbered and uncomfortable.

"What are your terms." Thorin did not seem afraid, he commanded the same way he did to strangers.

"I have no interest in flags, we have enough. I get your bike Oakenshield. If you lose."

"This isn't good." Nori swore from his position of leaning his elbow on Bilbo’s shoulder. Once again Bilbo was an armrest, the list was just climbing in how useful he was.

"Fine. If we win, you give us your flags, and you take penalty. Which means you start from zero." Thorin said. Azog's smirk remained feral and sharp. 

He turned his head to one of his minions. "Second."

"Dwalin you’re my backup." Thorin nodded to the bald man, who crossed his arms and tilted his tattooed head in response.

Bilbo was leaning on Myrtle 2, his nails digging in his palms as Thorin and Azog lined up next to each other. 

"Timer is set to ten seconds." Balin stood in between the two, his face a grim frozen stone.

The Gundabad Orcs were restless and jeering, they had taken off the helmets and Bilbo saw their cut up faces. He shuddered at the thought it must have been an initiation right to get such handmade tattoos and scars.

The Erebor Riders were silent.

A horn went off. And Azog and Thorin shot forward. Neck and Neck.  
The track looked rough, there were a lot of jutting out stones and weaving turns, Bilbo couldn't close his eyes or look away. Neither opponent was able to pull away long from the other.

They continued around the dried up pond.

Near the end of the first track. Bilbo gripped the handles of his bike, Thorin was, with full confidence, creeping ahead of Azog. It did not take long for him to gain a large gap ahead of the pale menace. Bilbo found himself cheering with the rest of the riders.

Then it happened.

No more than twenty feet from the finish line, Thorin's bike veered. It was a strange sight. The front ducked down fine, but the back tire, it twisted underneath him. 

And the Erebor leader was flung off. His body skid a few feet away on his back and then he collapsed. and Bilbo's team was up. Fili and Kili ran towards him, as did Dwalin.

"Cheat!" Kili screamed while the orcs jeered.

It was all frozen noise and Bilbo could only stare.  
They were going to lose.  
Thorin wasn't getting up.

"He might be concussed, hold his head."Oin yelled.  
Bilbo's heart was pounding. They were going to lose.

Azog passed by and continued on the track. None paid attention. But Bilbo saw it. The malicious glint, the way the Gundabad leader glanced at Thorin and just twisted around the wreck, without a hint of surprise in his face.  
Bilbo couldn't prove it.  
But Kili was right.  
His Baggins side said they cheated.  
His Tookish side said something even crazier, they couldn't lose.

Bilbo's body moved ahead of him. His bangs clung to his forehead, his goggles were pressed into his face, but they protected his eyes against the dawn.

In all of the noise, all of the furor and worry surrounding Thorin, Bilbo went unnoticed.

Thorin's bike was still running, toppled over, he switched the gear and struggled but lifted it up.  
"What are you doing" He heard a muffle voice. It sounded like Bofur. 

It was like he blacked out, and woke up on the road, hunched over Thorin's bike in a strange sort of lifted position. He was eyeing each crevice and pathway. Urging the vehicle forward. Pushing it to 70, 75, 80, 85 miles per hour.

This was the time of bad choices. The road was blurred lines of 'Lean This Way', 'Turn That way'. 

Azog was finishing lap two, and he was halfway through.

He cut around a rock from the inside, risking the tight space of the jagged surface. The road vibrated the motorcycle, and his teeth chattered.

He was back in 2008, racing some guy from Gondor. The bigger man had a better lead on him. But he had a crazier process. 

He cut around his opponent by brushing through to the inner left of the other racer. The inner left was the closest side, and fastest way to cut around without being expect.

Azog had an inner left that he hardly leaned to.

Azog had a stiff arm. He had a weakness.

Bilbo may be behind, but he had the advantage. He clenched his jaw and urged the bike.  
100.  
105,  
There was a chance of one wrong move and he would be splatter on the concrete. Just bits of meat.  
He didn't care. He felt insane. He could take them all on, and he knew he'd win.  
He estimated he was 100 feet behind.  
50 feet.  
20 feet.  
0.

He glanced at Azog. Azog glanced at him, face twisted in fury, it was blotching red. He saw Azog urge the gas and try to stay level. The man swiped at him from his right side.

Bilbo fell back.  
And just like in 2008. He brushed close to the left. He was so close he could feel the heat of the other's engine.

 

He stopped looking at where he was, and just zeroed in on the world ahead.  
There was the end, with the entire team. None were moving. They were probably pissed.

Thorin was standing, being supported by Dwalin and Kili it seemed.  
Wait it was the end of the lap. He eased his hand on the clutch, readying himself to switch gears. And slowed down.

They were looking at him with wide eyes, and the Orcs were making noise. Maybe he lost.  
But those weren't cheers from the Orcs. They were snarls.

"Did I win?" Bilbo’s voice came out small and hesistant.

"Bilbo…you. Are. The craziest motherfucker I've met." Kili pronounced slowly.  
And he was swarmed. With pats on his back, and nudges, and dizzying ruffles of his hair. It was hard to breathe through the smell, but he still beamed, his smile bright as the dawn coming up, blue eyes squinted.  
"I guess you got your comeuppance!" Ori cheered with a fist pump, grinning wild at the Gundabad Orcs. A few of the Riders stopped mid cheer. Nori looked at his brother and shook his head.

"No Ori. Just no."

"What?"

"Can't you at least get a little PG-13."

"Fine, you dicks-"

"Ori!" Dori interrupted. Ori groaned.

"I can't do anything right!"

Balin stared hard at the infuriated Azog with a clever smile.

"I believe you lost, and I believe the terms were,your flags."

More cheers from the Erebor Riders. Azog roared as four flags were tossed at them. One red, two black, and one green. Fili caught them, then flicked the other team off.

Azog's eyes didn't leave Bilbo. There was a deep seeded resentment there, his eyes roved over Bilbo's form, and then fell on his jacket. Cold black eyes widened, and Bilbo looked down, gold was peeking out from beneath.

"Thief." Azog mouthed, a cruel smile grew on his face. He motioned two fingers at his still raving underlings. They simmered down and revved up their bikes readying to leave. "I will come for you." 

He no longer felt like celebrating. The Orcs left, and the team was cheering at their mere luck and survival. Recounting Bilbo's racing and the insanity of the night.

"Baggins." Thorin cut through the crowd. he stumbled over to Bilbo, pushing Dwalin away from him. His face was infuriatingly unreadable. Bilbo gulped and tried to shrink away.

"What were you thinking taking my bike-"

"Well I-I"

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"  
"I- know I made"

"No you don't know. You could have gotten yourself injured, riding a bike like that. Challenging Azog like that." Thorin encroached closer, and Bilbo could smell a hint of coppery blood, sweat, and the hidden layer of spiced oak. "I said you needed to prove yourself, but with nothing so reckless."

Bilbo looked to the ground, his eyes stung. Doing things right in Thorin's eyes was not his forte. He thought he heard others raising up to help but Thorin cut them off.

Two warm hands rested on his shoulders, steadying him.

"I said you weren't a part of this team. "Thorin swallowed, and Bilbo didn't dare peek up. "I was wrong." Wait what? Now he could look up.

Baby blue eyes met an electric storm.

"You proved yourself a thousand times over. And I have never been so glad to see someone finish a race I started." A hand grabbed his chin, warmer than he expected.

And he did not expect the kiss that followed. His eyes weren't supposed to be open, but the warm lips on his were unexpected.

It should have been disgusting, they were both dirty, sweaty, and Bilbo had still a bad taste in his mouth.

But Thorin was like the sun, and he was just a light floating cloud basking in the heat. 

The kiss was hungry and demanding. Thorin's tongue demanded entrance and quickly subdued every part of Bilbo's mouth. Air. The kiss made him light headed and dizzy. It was a wonderful high. When the separated, Bilbo was surprised to see a light flush on Thorin's face.

He would look good debauched, the shorter biker shook his curls.

"Oh- well that was- unexpected." Bilbo was still dizzy from it all.

"Called it, you owe me Fili!" Kili exclaimed, and the noise of the company was back. Thorin was smiling down at Bilbo, it was small but there.

And for once Bilbo thought he might have done something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this time's question, which the first two people to answer correctly by Chapter 8's posting will get two one-shots of the character they choose;
> 
> I want people to guess what's the next vehicle that Bilbo will ride that's not Myrtle 2?
> 
> You can post answers here in the comments or on tumblr (pandamani is my user) :). As always sneak peeks will be posted on tumblr, plus I have an idea for an AU set in Middle Earth that might be happening/posted sometime at the end of this week along with the part two of the Inception fanfic.
> 
> Now, my bed is calling me.
> 
> Bonus question: The title of the fanfic is a turned around lyric from a song, anyone know which song it is?


	8. Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is really considering writing this romance novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... I'm a day late. I'm sorry, just midterms and life happened. Anyways the last question is still open for answers:  
> Which vehicle will Bilbo drive next that's not Myrtle 2?  
> A one-shot will be written for the correct answer!
> 
> Someone did get the bonus correct of where did I get the title. I twisted the lyrics of New York by Snow Patrol. They asked for an Ori/Dwori one-shot and it is written and being edited for posting tonight :D.
> 
>  **BIG ANNOUNCEMENT** I feel like I bombard you guys, but I like interactivity. This Chapter and Chapter 9 are character driven, and I really would like to switch P.O.V's for one chapter, which is the next one. So guys, vote on which character you would like to follow! I'm leaving it open until tomorrow night since I do have to get started if I want it out by Monday :D.

**Crimson**

Maybe he was invincible now. They rode on and on after the ravine match, cutting through more dry landscape in the midst of a bright sun. Bilbo didn't race ahead of the group, but he did stay closer to them than he had before. There was just a certain spice in his veins now, his need to race had returned. Even if he was in the middle of what seemed to be a gang war really, he knows he's proven something to himself, that maybe he can be accepted, maybe he can survive this. If the kiss didn't confirm that, then the flags they gained because of 'him' did. 

The kiss, he bit his bottom lip again, as if he could have the lingering feeling, the spark ,return, he shouldn’t be so confused but old insecurities tend to attack like white blood cells to a virus. After they had decided to drive off to god knows where Thorin hadn't said a word. He gave Bilbo several lingering looks, but for the most part he stayed at the head of the pack with Dwalin. It stung to think it might not have meant anything. That means he has two questionable relationships within the team; Nori, and Thorin.

Bilbo found himself wishing he could read people like he could see the road, clear with as many short cuts and escape routes as possible. 

Dust billowed from the speed of the wheels on the old road. Bilbo squinted his eyes, they were coming upon a lonely large structure, and he thought he saw a familiar white Cadillac at the old entrance sign of said foreign place.

The group started to slow down, and Gandalf stepped out if his shiny vehicle, untouched by any of the orange dust that may be blowing by.

"I think congratulations are in order." Gandalf called over the whistle of the wind and dying engines.

"Gandalf you should have seen it! Bilbo really kicked Azog’s ass." Kili was one of the first to bound up to the older man like a puppy.

"Yes word travels fast in The Circuit, apparently the Erebor Riders have a new Stealth who should be taken out.” Blue eyes squinted in amusement as his gaze was directed to Bilbo, and the racer tensed.

"Now I'm sure you are all tired, I have a friend who is opening up his home to you, since you defeated the Orcs, and he's disliked that group of bikers since they did a rather unsavory few things to this town of his." The elder continued.

"How can we trust him?" Thorin asked, crossing his arms like a defiant child.

"You don't have much of a choice right now."

"What do you mean, Gandalf? Yer speakin’ in riddles." Bofur scratched through his hat and tilted his head at their sponsor.

"You may want to lie low for a couple days. Rumors are spreading of a thief with a gold flag."

"A gold flag? Those are near impossible to find, we don't have one." Gloin huffed crossing his arms over his zipped up jacket.

"They're blaming us aren't they?" Dori asks.

"Yes there is a search to take the flag from you, by any means necessary." Gandalf’s voice dropped a register the warning spoken through his expression. Bilbo’s heart palpitated and he started to chew on the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed.

"What is so important about this gold flag?" He wrapped his arms around his body, ignoring the knowing look Gandalf sent him. He knew, he was the one who folded Bilbo’s clothes at Rivendell Inn, the one who hid it.

"It grants immunity from being removed out of the Circuit. And there are superstitions that those with a gold flag are guaranteed to win the race. It's been in Red Drake, or Orc possession for years. To the point where they circulated rumors to hide it." Balin explains.

“Damn low lifes, there is no honor among them.” Gloin swore knocking his fist against the frame of his forest green bike.

"Oh. And th-they think we have it?" Well he really couldn’t tell anyone now.

"Yes because someone does and Smaug, The Red Drake leader, is not happy with the idea that it’s no longer with him. Now enough talking out here, come bring your bikes around back, you need to disappear for a while." Gandalf said. They parked in the back near a few stables that had some rather impressive horses, the horses made Bilbo nervous by their sheer size, but their beauty couldn’t be denied, and he would find himself going in for a closer look if it weren’t for the smell.

"Thorin you're still injured, you should be recovering anyways." Oin warned to the man who was limping with a determination to keep his spine straight and tall. He frowned at his older companion, but didn’t say anything to deny the truth.

Gandalf motioned to the large pristine wood building, it had a sign in wild carved letters that said 'Beorn’s Cabin"' and featured two large bear statues at the entrance.

"Your bikes could use a little attention couldn't they?" Gandalf teased as  
he approached a rather large set of oak doors.

“Aye we should fix them up tomorrow.” Balin made another note in his phone.

"Now stand back, in fact it's best if you don't all crowd the door, come Bilbo you're the least rowdy, stand here." Gandalf shooed Thorin away who glared at being treated as a child, and the gang stayed further back by the short wood steps.

Possibly the largest man Bilbo has ever seen answers the door. The man was wide with muscle, and had to have been seven feet tall, his beard rivaled Gloin's in sheer length and fullness, a long black braid lies over his shoulder, and his dark eyes were ferocious.

All in all Bilbo hated Gandalf for picking him to be his door buddy.

"Beorn! It has been a while-"

The ferocious face cracked into an amiable smile. 

"Wanderer! I thought I saw your car out back." A large hand clasps Gandalf’s thin one.

"Yes, you remember that team I told you about that needs just a short breather-"

"Yes! From the Orcs those nasty bastards." The big man looks down as if seeing Bilbo for the first time. "This their leader? No wonder he needs shelter he's twitchy like a little bunny." 

Bilbo could hear the snickers from the other team members, he would be insulte dif he wasn’t so nervous."Oh no no I'm not the-"

"Come in you all look like you need food, don't wait out here for the Orcs to notice." Beorn's large hand is placed on Bilbo’s back and the straw tinted man is shoved inside. The team followed, a buzzing jitter of energy at the prospect of free food.

Inside it was all oak and wood, and it looked like a two story old saloon, Bilbo considered it as the setting for his inspired cheesy romance novel maybe that would add some-  
"There are several rooms you can use in your stay, where are you all headed?" The big man looked to Bilbo for the answers.

"I I-" That was a great question.

"Mirkwood, for their next race.” Gandalf answers setting himself down in one of the large chairs by the extra long dining table.

"Oh that's unfortunate." Was all Beorn said as he motioned for Bilbo to sit at the head of the table.

The ex baker didn't bother to stop himself when he put his forehead to the surface. There’s so much lack of communication in this world, it was a wonder it kept spinning.

He peeked up at Thorin, who took the chair next to him, captivated momentarily with the long black strands loose from the loose ponytail, and that carved elegant profile. That kissed him, he thought as he turned his head away, chin still resting on the surface of the table, and blue eyes clouded over.

Beorn sat in the chair on his other side, and demanded he hear about Bilbo’s win, breaking the blond out of his reverie. 

\----

Somehow Bilbo landed his own room. To his own relief he has his own space to spray with Lysol, a place to think and mull over and fantasize about current events, and find a better hiding spot for the items he apparently stole.

He plopped himself on the soft bed and stared at the ceiling in a stubborn resolve to be lazy.

How long have they been on the road?

Did he dare check his cell phone from somewhere in his bag? It's like he entered a different time zone or dimension and in the other one he hasn't yet quit his job, gone on the run with a biker gang, and now won his first race.

Someone opened his room door.

"Do none of you knock?" He bit out, glad he wasn’t in the fantasizing state of mind at the moment.

"Well it's been a couple hours I told them you might have keeled over and from adrenaline and shock, bunny." Nori drawled with the epitome of sarcasm laced in his tone. "Or I told them you might be masturbating."

Bilbo’s cheeks flushed with blood and he tried to ignore that damn bold statement. Though a little Tookish voice in the back of his head said he hadn’t done that in too long. 

Bilbo rolled over with much effort so he was looking at the door. He was exhausted.

"Your presence is required downstairs oh great leader. Thorin’s got some rules for us, like we’re a bunch of controllable children or something.” The criminal motioned with his thumb over his shoulder. 

Bilbo sighed and got out of the bed, shuffling towards the copper haired man, but keeping a bit of distance.

"You're still twitchy around me, thought we fixed that?" Nori moved closer without Bilbo’s notice and the blond jumped away, that light scent of cologne was too familiar from a hazy memory.

Too, too familiar. 

"This way." Nori was standing by the steps and Bilbo rushed back to his side, hazel eyes were squinting at him with obvious consideration.

"You know, I thought that maybe you just acknowledged that night and decided to move on but now I'm seeing you really are as prude as I thought. Or you don’t know what the hell happened, which is disappointing, and fun at the same time.” Nori said before turning away to the group who seemed to be waiting on them(and Fili and Kili who also wandered grouping late.).

Well crap Nori knew now, and he sounded a little bitter.

 

"Why is always you two that's last for anything?" As he inquired, Dori dusted something off of Nori's jacket and the younger swatted his hand away. Bilbo made a point to stand next to Ori for this meeting. Thorin and Balin seemed to argue about when they should leave, Fili and Kili protested against bike restriction, and Bofur was satisfied with the beer there. Bilbo looked at his friend from across the table, yes he missed the charming guy, and they haven’t talked since he found out about Bofur’s feelings for Nori. The bookish racer figured he should just keep his mouth shut more often, and he hoped he didn’t look too much like a dejected puppy (though the floppy hat adorned man did offer him a friendly smile), instead turning his attention to Dwalin. Throughout the chatter of the team Bilbo swore he was seeing the large man sneaking glances at Ori, but each time Dwalin did, Ori engaged Bilbo in conversation as if he was ignoring the elder.

There was too much going on for his simple Baggins tendencies. And then there was that nagging emotion, he wanted to talk to Thorin. He wanted to get everything out in the open and on the ground to litter the blank slate at their feet.

Moths frenzied in his stomach at the thought., The discussion ended with Thorin telling everyone stay out of the streets but do whatever they wanted, and Bilbo just dying on the inside with conflect.

\----

Bilbo got restless sitting in his room waiting for dinner. Sometime in the evening he decided to get some fresh air, he would much rather lock away the ghost sensation of warm needy lips on his. He let instincts lead him down the steps of the large two story and out to another rather impressive garden. It stretched out pretty far, and made him miss his own smaller cube setup. He started to just stroll between the tall fields of the flowers, the night air crisp with the lingering pearly scent of the bloomed petals, and just the faintest tinge of honey. 

There were two figures not too far from him, seeming deep in a conversation, bent close to each other, and he crept closer out of curiosity. The whispers grew louder.

"We've got maybe an hour Kili, before Uncle notices."

"That's long enough isn't it?"

Through the tall green, Bilbo crept around the hedge and saw the two with their bikes. They were pushing them in neutral, the engines cut off.

"What are you two doing? You're going to get caught." Bilbo startled the two brothers popping between them. Fili recovered first.

"Ah- Bilbo, we're just going for a-"

"You're not supposed to be-Mmpph!" Kili had covered Bilbo's mouth as the man's voice continued to raise.

"He knows now." Kili said to Fili seriously.

"Bring him then." Fili grinned, and Bilbo's eyes widened, he struggled to protest.

"What are you two doing? I won't tell anyone you can just- no no, put me down, I do not want to go anywhere." Bilbo was set at the front of Kili's bike, and being pushed along with the vehicle.

"Just shush, we will be back soon, we just wanted a bit of air." Kili whispered in the blonds’ ear, and he and Fili exchanged devious smirks.

Bilbo tried not to pout and be cross with them, but he sat with his arms folded and his brow furrowed and he decided not to look at either one of the Durin’s.

“I think he's mad at us." said Fili and he strode on his own bike, kicking the killswitch on as they reached the road.

"Nah, I don't think so." Kili grinned and ordered Bilbo to move back so he could drive.  
The honey haired man gripped the sides of the seat once he moved behind the youngest biker. Wait, he was behind Kili, Kili was the maddest driver. Maybe he could switch to Fili.  
But Fili was just as bad.

“Just so you know I consider this a case of kidnapping.” He bit out.

“You’ll be fine, it’s better than worrying Uncle.” Fili patted him on the head, as if he wasn’t just a couple inches shorter than the golden mane brother.

 

"How far this time?" Kili asked switching gears and warming the engine of his gleaming red bike.

"Ten miles,shouldn't be too far." And they became streaks of cerulean and crimson, with Bilbo holding on for dear life, they ate up the road in no time, weaving around each other on the empty asphalt in the dusk.

He almost enjoyed watching the edge of the road get closer and closer, and the sky just get a hint inkier than it was before. They veered left with a stomach lurching moment, and seemed to slow down in another one of the rare fields of the open highway road. 

Bilbo was the first to get off, disgruntled and mildly furious. "Will you two tell my why you have taken me here? Why couldn't you have just left me, and went along your merry way of breaking the rules!"

Fili gave him that superior squint of his blue eyes , "You're a bad liar." The blond shrugged, and stripped himself of his jacket, leaving it on the bike. Kili did the same throwing it to the side and plopping himself on the grass, lying on his back.

Bilbo waited a few moments, considering what to say, if he could refute that. He sat on the ground drawing his knees to his chest.

"Did you just want to get away from the group?" He asked. And for once neither one jumped at an answer for him.

"We always want to get away from the group." Kili said trying to lace his voice with humor, but Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the obvious failure.

"Don't get us wrong," Fili continued. "We love our family, and this team is all we know, but it's, all we know. We like to go further than they are willing."

"Once we win this Circuit, we can leave, not for long, maybe a year or two. Do something with ourselves." Kili sounded so determined, as if a win was cemented in their future.

"But telling mom and Uncle, that's going to interesting. We don't know where we want to go, but we just want to be gone, for a little while." By that point Kili had rolled to his side, closer to his brother.

"You're afraid of what they might say, or you don't want to hurt them." He clarified for the two, he could identify with it. He wanted to go away once, for a PHD, he wanted to try but then his parents passed, and he couldn't move for a very long time.

He didn't find out which it was, they just sat there not saying much.

\-------

Dinner was full of tumultuous emotions that stewed inside of him, he couldn't look Thorin in the eye, the food was delicious, but they were all involved in conversation he didn't understand. Something about terrible hygiene and motel stories being swapped. He sighed into another honey biscuit that apparently Beorn was just a master at making.

Bombur was on his fifth plate, which entertained and flatter their host to no end. Bilbo thought Beorn was just a little in admiration of the red head. Then again so was he, he resolved he had to have a conversation by some point with the round man over their favorite foods.

"Yeah well I can't say I had anything shitty happen in my motel room this time. Bilbo spent most of that time making sure that didn't happen."

Bilbo perked up once he heard his name, and the implication, he raised an eyebrow at Nori, who winked.

"Ew, we don't need to know details Nori." Kili scrunched up his face.

"Oh Bilbo could tell you what went on couldn't he?" Nori turned all the attention to the poor blond who was trying to shrink away.

"N-No, well all I did was use an entire can of Lysol. You have to be careful of bedbugs and bacteria, and-"

"Yeah he sprayed the shit out of the place, could hardly breath, much less beat off." Nori said, though hazel eyes were squinted at him in suspicion, again. Bilbo felt the man just liked to say such lewd things.

"Can we move on." Thorin cut in as he seemed to stab a fork into what was left of his cheesecake, mutilating the soft treat. 

"I’ve got one! Uncle talked in his sleep a few nights ago. Something about a demon horse, and a pony named Minty." Kili motioned towards his older family member.

"I did not." Thorin sounded, scandalized? In denial? 

"How would you know? You were sleeping? While poor Fili and I were trying to cover our ears from your angry growls."

"Better than that time he-" Fili began to make a gesture with a closed fist.

"I will kill both of you. Blood relations be damned." Despite Thorin sounding very serious, Bilbo did join the rest in laughter at the leader’s expense. 

"Story for another time then!" the older brother laughed off with a twinge of nervousness.

After dinner Ori had cornered Bilbo for a talk. Well not cornered he asked nicely but he did not look like he'd take no for an answer. They decided to seat themselves in one of the more comfortable parts of the place, a small room connected to the living room with red oak chairs.

"I need to tell someone and I can't tell anyone else especially Nori or Dori because they would be two conflicting sides of advice and I think you're the best person I could just talk to about this so here goes-"

Bilbo blinked as Ori took a deep breath.

"I don't know what to do about Dwalin anymore."

"What?" Bilbo blinked again not sure if he heard correctly, that sounded like something had already been done. Did he miss something? This changed the entire premise of his novel. 

"Dwalin hasn't done anything at all,I don't know if I can wait anymore for his own doubts and insecurities especially since my brothers are rather threatening yes, but still I can't sit around being the only one who has made the initial move-"

"Wait wait." Bilbo held up a hand. "Ori you're rambling start from the beginning, are you and Dwalin-" he looked around and lowered his voice.  
"Together?"

Ori threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know! It's been several months."  
What? Oh wait a moment, this novel has just gotten so much more complex.  
"And nothing has happened, I confessed to him five months ago and he said it was mutual, but then we haven't made anything official besides a kiss, and the Circuit started right after, and I'm still a virgin. Not by choice!" Too much information. "Do you think he's not interested anymore?" 

Ori’s voice had lost its frustration and went quiet.

"Oh if his murderous stares at me are any indication he's definitely interested." Bilbo shuddered at the reminder.

"I don't know if that's worse or not." The boys voice was frustrated and he ripped out a novel from his bag, the Great Gatsby, and started to read, a nervous twitch in his mouth.

Bilbo twiddled his fingers on his knees a bit.

"You should talk to Thorin." Ori broke the silence.

"What? He has his reasons maybe-"

"He and Dwalin are best friends they're probably terribly at trying to figure out these 'reasons' and come up with excuses like age as to why they can't act upon it.” Now it's gotten personal again, Bilbo winced as Ori muttered about emotionally stunted people. “I’m sorry, I’m just-“

“Nervous, worried that it was all in your head.” Bilbo finished with a shrug. Then it all came tumbling out. "But what if it doesn't mean anything? It could have been the adrenaline. He did hit his head! Isn't he still injured I can't bother him-"

"I don't think I've ever heard of Thorin kissing someone before, there's a chance yet." Ori’s brown eyes left the pages of the book, round, and clear with understanding.

Bilbo nodded swallowing the next few words but still nervous. By some point he and Ori parted, and Bilbo he wasn’t alone in the drama department. 

He sighed and walked steadily up the steps from the living room to the hallway of the guest rooms.

"You're avoiding me." Thorin cornered him down the darker hallway of the cabin. Bilbo jumped, having not heard the usual clunk of thick black boots.

"Well- Wait no I'm not. You have been avoiding me." Bilbo pointed at the taller man’s chest. They both were at fault if anything, he was not getting all the blame placed on him. He's had enough of that for one night.

"It was not my intention." Thorin’s large hands were clenched loosely and hung to his sides. Blue eyes still assessed Bilbo with a level of intensity most couldn't replicate.

"Well um good. It wasn't mine, either." Lies but it's because he's awkward and he will attest to that.

"Good."

They stood there for a couple more heartbeats of silence.

"Are you," Thorin cleared his throat, "are you and Nori?"

"Oh no no, no that was. Something." He flailed his hands in emphasis, wanting no more than to facepalm.

"Good. I thought, my kiss may not have even accepted." For someone with such a tough exterior Thorin was not exuding that energy right now. It was quite cute actually, his lips were pressed to a thin line, and his dark brow was furrowed but not in frustration, just consideration.

"Well it was." He smiled, aware it was still not a strong one.

"Goodnight." Thorin nodded a small smile on his severe face but he still turned and walked the opposite direction from Bilbo.

That wasn't the way to the rooms. And frustration piled like jenga pieces in his belly.

"Thorin wait." He just about stomped his bare feet over to the taller man.

"Is that really all you had to tell me?” He grabbed the much larger wrist and braced himself to actually look the man in the eyes.

“Well I was just-“

“Oh forget it.” Bilbo feeling rather bold, pulled himself full height and tugged at Thorin’s long front lock gently, a hint for the man to lean down and take the damn kiss.

It was just as glorious as before, that warm delirious satisfaction that he was just drunk with. He was haunted by the heat, though this was much gentler and soft, like it had taken on Bilbo’s personality instead, and was just a simple brush of the lips. It still sent a spark to the bottom of his spine, and he shuddered when Thorin’s large palm found the back of his neck.

He sighed as they took a break of a breath, pulling apart for a few seconds, but staying within each other’s body heat, making the chilled hallway as hot as a furnace.

He leaned in again, determined for one more, because if it’s his last, well he’ll be damned, blue eyes fluttered shut, and his fingers tangled in surprisingly silky thick hair. Thorin’s beard scratched his chin, but he was more mesmerized by the lingering taste in the man’s warm mouth. 

This moment lasted longer, but seemed to move quicker, sending the heat straight to his lower body like a buildup of hot fire.

They separated again, Bilbo remembered how open the hallway was, and took a couple steps away.

“Well um. Goodnight.” He nodded at Thorin, and then scurried to his room, a stupid coy smile on his face all the while.

\--- 

_He was riding his bike at the rim of a hundred foot tall cliff. It was all desert, until it wasn't._

_Then he was walking, wading into a shallow pond, across is a figure, with long dark hair. He runs to it thinking it’s Thorin._

_But this figure is shorter and younger, his blue eyes lighter. Just the thinnest trim of a beard lined his jaw._

_"Be careful out there." The stranger says, with a settling grin, he then starts to walk into a spiral of flames, untouched. "It's all about to go to hell." The voice echoes._

_The ground swallows Bilbo whole, before he can call to the man, he falls into a pit of burning red concrete and little sparks of fire lick at his face._

_He lies on the concrete looking up at the small opening of light, he wants to crawl out but he can’t.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to vote for a character you would like to follow. And for companion pieces, go check out the one-shot collection: Take the Road.
> 
> Thanks so much for the feedback and the comments, and kudos, I love you all for it!


	9. Ivory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori just wants his 'me'-time to last more than thirty minutes for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was a tie between Dori, and Thorin, so I flipped a coin of inspiration.  
> And then chugged through this.
> 
> I have no clue what is happening. At all, and I was sober when I wrote this too( not that it's a rare occurrence, haha). 
> 
> Just prepare yourselves for a bout of Ri brother randomness.
> 
> My new motto: When in doubt add a Nori to the scene.
> 
> Oh and since no one guessed the correct answer for the last question it gets to remain a surprise! And now to craft a new one, check the end and remember the first correct answer gets a one-shot gift.
> 
> Enjoy Dori~  
> -But first a message from the sponsors-

**Ivory**

Outside of the Rivendell Inn it was rather quiet, and the land was lush green, having just recently seen rain. A gentle breeze was the only noise until a smooth vintage Cadillac pulls into one of the front parking spaces and cuts off.

"Ah yes Radagast, if you feel the need to close early do so I'm sure today is a slow day- yes yes I understand the plants are looking a little weak- I don’t disagree, it might be a bad omen- do give them what you feel is best- and maybe make a trip to the Greenwood store if you would like." Gandalf says into the speaker of his phone, it takes a couple moments of coaxing his frantic friend but he is able to hang up after a moment. 

Gandalf stepped out of the front seat, straightened his white suit jacket, and headed through the familiar, pristine gold doors of the tall inn. He nodded at Lindir who was positioned at the Reservations Counter, the man levels him with the same wide eyed amenable demeanor as always.

“They are in the garden.” Lindir monotones and he leads Gandalf to the soft paved white stone, he gestures towards a pavilion with beams wrapped in vines, and then turns back to the inn. There were three of the council members positioned as if triangle points around a table.

"Gandalf, how good of you to join us." Says the first to his left, Saruman, he smiles at his familiar, not at all apologetic. The man is sitting stiff as usual with his sharp white cane, and severe eyebrows drawn in.

"Saruman, Elrond. Galadriel." He pauses on the last name and his smile softens. "It is good to see you all this fine afternoon."

"And you as well, Gandalf." The beautiful woman smiles, her hands folded in front of her. She is the only one standing in the meeting, making her almost ageless presence all the more commanding.

"We should move on from pleasantries-" Saruman cuts in. "We have much to discuss, and many changes to make.”  
"How so? We have already set up the first few rounds, and the teams need no more to fuel their rivalries. If we change any more they will start to take it into their own hands." Elrond pulled out the familiar Circuit map they had all drawn, to be centered on the table.

"Who says they aren’t taking things in their own hands already?" The white haired man tips his cane a fraction. "They consider us just predictable figureheads.. What about these Erebor Riders? They are still adamant to cause the most trouble each year. I propose we make some changes-"

Gandalf interjects, setting his fingertips on the pearly surface of the table. "You have already moved the start date up Saruman. What else could we possibly do? If we start to tailor every bit of the competition they will raise the stakes, this isn't just a race to any of these teams. And I think we are taking that fact a little too lightly. Something is stirring, and for too long we’ve let the Red Drakes-” 

“The Red Drakes are just another team, no more of these conspiracy theories Gandalf, you have no proof of anything more than that.”

“We can’t risk another fire Saruman. People are dying in this, and we were supposed to prevent these wars.”

“I do not think it would get so drastic, there’s too much risk that I’m sure they wouldn’t be willing to take.” Elrond says looking between Gandalf and Saruman. “Although they’ve always been rather violent with each other, I don’t disagree with that fact .”

“We need to monitor them better, the reports are coming in of the races, and we are going to have to put our hands in it again, to make sure the final one has the proper teams, without preventable incident.” Saruman insists.

“Something is hidden from our sights.” Galadriel cuts in, silencing the three for a beat or two. Her face is as clear, but Gandalf knows how to recognize the grave warning in her expression.

"That's exactly why-" Gandalf sighed as Saruman continued. Galadriel was watching with sharp blue eyes, and she and Gandalf exchange a subtle exasperated look. Her’s more amused, but the Erebor Rider's sponsor knew it would be a long afternoon.

\----

Early morning- usually six am if he has gotten a decent nights rest- Dori opened his grey eyes to the un-mistakable sound of rustling. In the shared room of the Rieve brothers, he knew Nori was being as quiet as possible, but Dori hated when things were out of place, and he had his own Nori-sensor the other couldn’t avoid. His brother was searching for something, in a sort of futile manner. His long copper hair was a shameful mess down his back at the moment, and the eldest wanted to tell him go take a shower but this was too entertaining.

The silent thief gave up after about ten minutes of sifting through every crack without much evidence except for what Dori could see. He huffed, crossed his arms, and padded out of the room..

Dori decided now was a better time than ever to get up. Stretching his aging muscles, he looked over to Ori, who was still asleep curled up on the other bed, with a fond smile.

Might as well get the day started. As with everywhere he went he: folded the sheets, set out his clothing for the day, if there was an iron he would heat it up (if not he took out his own iron and proceed to get out any wrinkles), if there was provided tea he didn't have to take out his portable electric kettle, he would also make sure Ori's clothing didn't need any new stitching, see about cleaning the clothing they have, check on Nori's belongings which were no doubt in need of help, and then he would begin the process of bathing, dressing and braiding a single thick plait. He often considered cutting it just as much as he would shave down his beard into it’s signature neat shape, but he hesitated every time. Norah would tell him to only do it if he stopped caring about it.  
\-----

The older biker liked that Mister Beorn seemed to have a prevalent amount of teas. The stacks of different flavors, boxes, tins, loose leaf, and bags reminded him of the old shop he frequented back in the city Ered Luin.

It was when he was enjoying his third cup of Chai tea, seated comfortable in of the wooden chairs of the living room, wishing for a bit of Italian Opera to play when his peace was interrupted. It was a good hour break.

"Dori, where the hell did you put my keys?" His younger brother cast a shadow over him, blocking the light and view from the window.

His eyebrow did not twitch. 

"Don’t worry about it, you are supposed to be lying low." He said setting grey eyes to his wilder sibling. He assessed the state of Nori's typical vintage band shirt, that large tattoo of his poking out from the cut tank sleeves, and that untamed hair was still draping down his shoulders.

"That's for the rest of you who are terrible at going unnoticed." Nori leaned over from in front of him and tried to swipe his teacup. Dori was faster, though the scalding liquid threatened to drip on his pristine dark jeans.  
His brother always had an issue with personal space. 

"Well that’s reason enough not to tell you.” Dori went back to sipping his tea, and Nori glared at him with a surly expression that he hadn't grown out of, the middle brother stuffed his hands in his pockets, scrutinizing the tea aficionado. "That look isn't going to make me tell you who I’ve hidden them with." He noted voices getting nearer, and sighed.

"I'll just find them then."  
Dori snorted, Nori has yet to beat him in this game, at least he could say that much. His brother has always been clever, but the white haired man took pride in his meticulous staunch standing when it came to keeping the rules.

"Jeeze I need to room with Bilbo again damnit.” Nori’s head darted up watching the entrance to the living room.

"Really now? It wasn’t so you could sleep with yet another team member?” Dori had actually liked Mr. Baggins. He seemed like a quiet neat soul, with a respectable tea collection. Dori could appreciate that, because he may have a knack for motorcycles, and racing, and he may have been part of a gang for most of his life, but that didn't mean he wasn't a gentleman, most of the time. "I don't see why you couldn't just leave the poor lad alone-"

"I didn't set out to defile him, if that's what you're thinking. In fact there are a lot of assumptions being made here." Nori's hazel eyes were guarded, on the defensive.

"Oi you two, Beorn’s crackin’ out the ale this morning. Says it’s a special brew, stop gossipin’ and come get some.” Bofur stuck his head in to the living room. 

He sniffed. "I'm fine with my tea here."

"I'll get some, gotta have some kind of fun around here." Nori walked with brisk steps towards his first victim (Dori could guarantee the keys weren’t with Bofur, though that is a good idea with their current state.), and though Bofur waited for him, there was an uneasy stiffness. 

. He was close to settling back with his chilled tea when Bifur came in with all tinkles and clanks thanks to his hefty worn black boots, and he was holding his whittling knife. Dori eyed him as he poured more chai from the lovely little white kettle, and then he motioned to it.

Bifur grunted and took out a fresh wooden piece. Alright then, at least he was quiet when he sat down.

So Dori rested back and continued to look out the window at the pleasant scenery. Those young Durin boys were outside, being rather obvious as they continued to look in the direction of where the bikes were parked. They were too young to be here, still at the stage where they couldn't stand being worried over without pouting (As was Thorin, but that stubbornness would never end.), they didn't follow any of the set guidelines and like true Durins were never satisfied with the flat-line basics assigned. It was like trying to care for two 'Ori's from three years ago. Not that he didn’t have his suspicions Ori was hiding something even now.

Bifur grunted setting down his tools and gestured, drawing Dori out of his scheduled midday musings 'I’m going to be blunt.'

"You always are." He responds.

'Your brother and my cousin are more annoying than Bilbo and Thorin. They should fuck or get over it.' Those gestures were quite rude.

He choked on his next sip of the spicy scented liquid, his cheeks warmed a bit, and he had to dab his chin with a napkin to rid of any dribble.

"Ok too blunt, Bifur, while I agree I think it might be something a little bit more delicate than that."

'Bofur has been moping for days and Nori has hardly said a word.' Now Bifur was glaring.

“You know I can’t do anything about my brother, something’s turning in that mind of his, and he’s too many steps ahead for me to make any assumptions.”

“Well the lad should really work on those calculations a bit faster.” Balin walks in, adding another warm-body to the room. At least it was another intelligent presence.

‘If he hurts Bofur, I don’t care what any of you say I’ll break his jaw.’ Bifur was always overprotective of his cousins. It was understandable, after what they’ve been through.

What they’ve all been through, and that thought in itself kept him from the usual gossip he Bifur, and Balin often partook in.

Dori has spent most of his life, since his mother's death, caring for his younger brothers. Fending off their father whenever he would drop by, watching them when they'd ride in the Circuit, washing their clothes, teaching them manners (though Ori was much easier in that department), and cooking the best meals he could- without the actual talent for flavor. If anyone offered their help, he rarely took it because it was his responsibility, they were his family, and no one would care for them in the same way.  
He did get a full head of white hair early, but it came with the territory.

“Have you spoken to Norah lately?” Balin asked, in his usual kind tone.

Dori tried to smile, “A few days ago.” Bifur grunts and Dori knows it was something rude he should not look at. Balin makes a noise of understanding, and switches topics.

When he became selfless there were few things he could call his own. One of them was Bola, his sport-cruiser cross bike. He didn't like to race much as he liked the control of riding, handling, and fixing every inch of his white vehicle. It was his, and even if he did catch Nori once taking his bike, he never lost that possessiveness.

And he wouldn't admit it out loud, but it burned not to be riding it right now as they lie low. He only controlled himself as a way to keep Nori from calling him a hypocrite. But really he'd rather take those Gundabad bikers head on and break a few limbs to warn them off, it wasn't as if he hasn't done it before.

An hour later Nori was hovering over him again, despite Balin and Bifur’s presence.

"Ok where are they? I’ve searched every crevice, and even searched Ori, you can't keep me hostage here like this." His brother looked close to stamping his foot.

"In front of everyone else no less!" Ori stomped up, although he went on ignored by the middle brother. Balin snorted, and Bifur just shook his head, returning to the little figurine he was making. “And you had no right to!”

“Get over it Ori, you’re my brother, I wasn’t violating you.”  
“But in front of Dwalin, really,”  
“And Thorin, and Gloin, and Bombur, but lets not get into specifics here, yeah?”  
“You stole my suspenders and unbuttoned my pants!”

Dori assumed it was time to leave, before things got heated. 

Last time their apartment needed extreme renovation, and furniture replacement.

He sure did miss that ‘ugly old ladies’ couch, as Nori called it.

"I'm going for a walk." He reaches and fixes a wrinkle in Ori's cardigan, and then exits, interrupting the mounting argument. "I will speak to you later,” He remained calm, even with his brother glaring daggers at him, and tilted his head at his two friends.

And that was the end of that.

\-----

"Are you doing all right Bilbo?" Dori worried for the man, even with the bonds he seemed to form, he just always looked so lost. And since he fainted he hasn’t gained much of his strength back in Dori’s opinion, and that reckless racing he did again the Gundabad team, really. The blond startled but responded with his signature twitchy smile.

"Hello Dori, I'm quite alright." The boy puts something key shaped in his loose jean pocket, and Dori's hand moves to the keys in his inner jacket pocket.

"Mind if I join you?" He settles for, taking another seat in the opposite weaved brown chair. Bilbo shakes his head. "I'm trying to get some peace and quiet right now, from my brother."

Thus Dori found himself actually having a conversation with their little Stealth. Bilbo was cross-legged in a wicker chair on the back porch, blue eyes staring at the garden with such interest and curls barely tamed in the gentle breeze

 

"Nori was cursing about some keys he's lost." The new member says confusion laced in his voice.

"Was he now? Maybe if he could be trusted not to drive off despite what’s good for the team. I have half a mind to take those Durin boys’ keys too." He mumbled under his breath, fingers drumming against the smooth texture of the chair. Bilbo made a strange squeaking sound to which he raised an eyebrow.

"You should go lie down. You really don't look well today," Though the boy was always rather pale, he seemed to darken a bit under the traveling sun.

"I-I'm fine, just fine."

"Come now you won't have a chance for rest for a while," Once they reached that damned city of Mirkwood, it was non-stop in such an unsavory place.

"No, no I'm ok, I promise." Blue eyes were going everywhere but looking at Dori, how rude. He followed the young man's line of sight and saw Thorin pacing on the inside of the home.

Ah so there was that anxiety, time to settle it. “Would you like some tea?" 

His teammate chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yes, yes that would be quite nice." 

Dori sighed, and got up from his warm spot to go and heat up another pot of tea. He passed by Nori who was watching Balin, Bifur and now Oin's conversation. Looking like a snake ready to strike.

"You are going to get caught."

"There's a ten percent chance that I will." Nori whispers, and he doesn't hold back his eye roll. Those who beg for trouble, get more than they bargained for. There must be a thrill in it somewhere.

He straightened up his loose purple sweater and began soak some chamomile bags in a hot kettle, just watching the tea sink and stain the clear water eased his anxiety. Someone was being cared for at least.

Thorin clunked into the kitchen area, obviously looking for something, his back was straight but his eyes scanned over the area.  
“They are over there on the bar counter.” Dori supplied, the leader had a weakness for bread and the silver haired elder would admit those honey biscuits were divine. Like a wolf, Thorin moved swift in the exact direction where Dori gestured, and he picked up as many he could hold in one hand, from the fresh plate their host set out on a green plate. That right arm was still stiff.

"Have you been seeing Oin?"

Thorin grunted in response. Dear god, Norah used to speak of the stubbornness of men, he is seeing truth in that from his 'family' alone.

"We will be here longer if you can't drive." He continues.

"I can drive." By some respect, though he had to grow up at a similar pace, Thorin was still younger than Dori and it showed. 

"Why don't you take some tea, I'm making some for Mr.Baggins as well."

Thorin snorted. "Tea does not solve everything,"

Irritation itched in his palms. "Oh but it does, there are many healing properties in tea. Here I will pour you a cup, and maybe it will go well with the overconsumption of those honey biscuits?"  
Three white mugs were filled with the gold liquid, and he prepared to leave.

"Dori, wait. Can you tell Bilbo that I would like to speak with him? Later." Their illustrious leader was focused very much on the mug that was forced to him, one large hand holding it, the other clutching three soft biscuits. He knew he was staring hard at Thorin, watching the unease in those blue eyes, and the determination in his characterized frown.

"Of course." The small smile that graced the man's face was disarming but pleasant. There was some sort of hope he hadn't seen in a while in Thorin. He spent so much time concerned for vengeance that hasn't be fulfilled yet, and concerned for the Durin Line, they all have been. 

Dori nods in dismissal and leaves the kitchen with the two steaming mugs; he passes by the three in the living room again. In another portion of the home Gloin and Dwalin were watching the television, they all looked comfortable, tension absent from their frames.

To Dori the team hasn’t changed much outwardly in the last five years. But inside, he could see it as much as they felt it. In this warm lit inn he felt a certainty that hadn't been in him in a while.

He just hoped he could protect everyone from the assured change later. He saw what others didn't; this wasn't a simple traditional race, not with so much history and malice between every gang. This was war, and none of them were soldiers.

"Thank you." Bilbo took the mug into soft hands with wide curious eyes. They sat in silence, sipping tea, and on polar opposite sides of the wood back porch.

"Are you ok Dori? You look troubled," the small man asked. His heart stuttered in surprise. Was it showing so much so on his face? 

"I'm fine, thank you." To be asked that was such a rare thing, he was too busy asking the others, making sure everyone felt a little less like worn burnt patchwork and a little more like the whole piece they used to be. "Thorin said he would like to speak with you this evening. I don't know where, but he would." 

 

Bilbo blushed a subtle pink. "Right, ok." The man fidgets with his hands in his lap, his shoulders are drawn up stiff, and Dori thinks, this outsider had wedged himself right in to the team. There’s something to be said about that, especially if it didn’t last.

A loud unmistakable roar traveled from the inside, it broke every inch of peace and silence, and the thud of thick-soled shoes trudged towards them.

"Dori, so help me if you don't get Nori away from me I will kill him." Dwalin growls bursting outside the garden, Bilbo made a nervous chirp in his own fear of the red- faced man.

"What has he done this time?"

"He accused me of not only taking his bike keys, but then started to search me. I will break his hands if that pocket knife comes near me again."

"You didn't seem to complain last time my ‘knife' came near you." Nori slunk outside, though he kept careful distance between himself and the large muscled girth that was Dwalin. He placed himself behind Bilbo using the poor boy as a meat shield, 

Dori shook his head."I told you, you would get caught."

Another growl bubbled from Dwalin’s throat. Nori held up the man's keys. 

"They're not what I need anyways." His brother smirked, a slender pierced eyebrow raised.

Dwalin lunged forward, and Bilbo ducked in self-defense. Just to protect the innocent who would obviously be crushed, Dori sets down his tea, and reaches forward grabbing the large shoulder; stilling the man with ease.

"Nori, hand Dwalin back his keys. Dwalin, refrain from breaking our Stealth in your mad rage, I don't think Thorin would appreciate the gesture." Nori was narrowing his eyes at his elder brother. Something was calculating in that sharp mind. The thief stretches like a cat, and tossed Dwalin the key set, which the man catches, still breathing from his nose. Then the middle Rieve pulls out a hair tie, pulling his loose hair into a top knot.

Dori lets go of Dwalin's shoulder.

"You’re the only one I haven't searched yet." Nori starts, each word careful.

"You don't say? So you got away with searching everyone?" Grey eyes flicker over to Bilbo.  
Bilbo nodded from his place in the chair.

Like the panther he was Nori takes careful steps from behind the wicker seat.

Dwalin takes a few wise steps back.

"That's very rude of you Nori." The eldest continued, fixing his cuffs.

"I want my keys."

"Of course you do, but you don’t _need_ them.” The white haired Rieve pronounces each word carefully.

"Stop trying to control me." Nori wasn’t smirking any more.

"Sometimes you need a little control." His voice is rising.

"For what? I've been fucking fine handling myself, just because I don't want to be bored out of my mind like you and Ori-"

"Staying out of trouble, and keeping put is not boring. If we were so boring we wouldn't be here."

"Bullshit, you didn't want to be here, you only came because Ori insisted on still racing."

"I considered staying yes, but I couldn't let Ori, nor you just get yourselves killed like you are bound to do without me.”

"You don't trust me."

"You never wanted my trust, you seem pretty content getting it elsewhere!"

"Pfft.” Nori crossed his arms. “Fun fact about ‘my world’ you learn to only trust yourself.”

"Is that why you spend more time with Bofur then with us, heading out god knows where…"

"That’s different.” 

“Of course that’s why you two are doing so well right now.” He’s been meaning to voice his disapproval of Nori’s handling of the situation for a while now. 

The red head’s frown turns to a snarl. “You’re one to speak, when was the last time perfect Dori has cuddled with his perfect wife?”

He clenched his fist, a pang searing through his diaphragm. Something snapped in both of them.

"At least I am not ignoring the situation. Go on then, tell me you don’t actually see what you’re doing to your best friend. You’re spending too much time pretending you don’t need anyone-“

"Fuck you. Isn’t that the same thing that got you in trouble in the first place, acting like you know everything-“ And the cards kept stacking on delicate edges.

"You're overstepping, Nori." Now he flexed his hand, and he saw his brother's eyes go to it, but the smug look didn't leave the other's face.

“I live to do that brother.”

Dwalin seemed to move a couple steps around them, and then he grabbed Bilbo by the collar.

"What, what are you doing-" The outlier struggles.

"Lad, you have to learn when to get out of the way. I'm saving your life." The burly man says.

"-What? But what about my tea? What's going on?" The blond’s brow was furrowed.

"Dori-" Nori says.

"Yes brother?"

"This isn't going to end well."

"No, it's not." He admitted, some kind of determination stirring. He hands his empty mug to a very concerned looking Bilbo.

Nori struck first, his open palms quick and reaching for the plum sweater, and Dori knocks his brother's wrist away with just as effective reflexes.

"Oh dear," He hears the Stealth whisper as he deflects another slice towards him. He twists his torso back, knowing his brother will try and use age and speed against his strength.

The keys jingled from his person, and he watches hazel eyes lock on to his chest, so he delivers a quick kick to Nori’s thigh forcing the younger to dodge back.  
They didn't take so many years of martial arts for them to not use it against each other. 

"Should someone do something?" Bilbo said as Dori deflects yet another palm strike. The tea lover takes a few steps back and ends up having to pick up the chair and toss it out of the way, towards the grass, it falls to it's side, hopefully in one piece.

"I'm going to go get Balin, or Thorin, or someone, someone get someone oh my god does Nori have a knife?"  
Indeed his brother was trying to cut up one of his favorite sweaters. He grabs Nori by the wrist, knocks the knife away, and tosses the slender man towards the garden.

"Oh dear god-"  
"Laddie there isn't much we can do."  
“What’s going on out here?” Oin says rather loudly.  
"Rieve brothers fightin’? Oh this is better than MMA.” Gloin laughs.

"My bet's on Dori." Fili says which is followed by Kili saying: "Then I bet on Nori." 

It seems half the team heard Bilbo's panicking and rushed over, but he was too busy focusing on keeping Nori far away from his person, his brother thrived in close quarters. But like a persistent feral cat Nori's face is blank, but his eyes fiery and hands slowly learning to break through every move his silver haired brother uses on the defense.  
“Damnit Dori just give me my keys.”  
Dori grunts when a fist meets his brought up forearm. A light burn of pain bloomed, good they weren't out to kill each other, this time.  
Nori exhales a deft hand just able to grab a part of the long sweater sleeve, the white haired fighter flips his brother over his shoulder. He hears the body hit the hard dirt with a thud, and turns. His brother doesn’t stay down long.

"You're not getting the keys, especially if you damage my sweater." Dori warns.

"What is going on here?" Beorn's voice booms from the porch. He sounded entertained, which was good because he might get a few things destroyed. Either way Dori will write him a check if he needs to. "I thought they were kin?"

‘This happens sometimes.” Balin clarifies, and Beorn laughs.  
“Ah like true blood brothers!”

They separated both about ten feet away from each other. Dori huffs, getting his knees locked into a defensive crouch. Well he knows that smirk on Nori's face, this is the end all be all.  
One of them is going to lose after this next move, and to do that he may have to knock the stubborn thief out.

Nori runs at him, and he braces for the blows to his chest, ready to flip his brother over and deliver the flat of his palm to-  
"Can you two stop?" Ori is in his line of sight and one hand is pushing Nori's chest back and his glare is set on his eldest brother’s face.

"He started it." Nori spits.

"Yeah well you know you were about to lose, so can we not do anything more to Mister Beorn's garden?"  
Dori looked around and saw a quite a few footprints in the dirt, some of the wild flowers were crushed, and large bees were buzzing around in a frantic way. It was a miracle they didn't get stung.

"He was enjoying it." Nori grumbled.

"So," Ori drew out the word, and pride swelled in Dori's chest. "Can we please go inside, I think Bilbo nearly fainted again," There were the round, brown puppy eyes that neither elder brother could resist. Dori stood straight, a frown on his face. His grey eyes scanned Nori for any injuries; there were some bruises, but no more than the red head’s pride.

Dori brushed past the group to go and get himself some more tea, ignoring the open mouthed expression on Bilbo’s face.  
Their last dinner at Beorn’s was quiet. He and Nori didn't speak much to each other. Tensions were strained between the Rieve brothers, and the awkward air could be sliced with a cheese knife. Bofur seemed to feed off the energy, and he turned his attentions to his brother, and Bilbo, rather than to Nori. The thief was oddly silent, and brooding enough to rival Thorin. They were hardly speaking at that rate, and a dark part of Dori’s mind said ' _Serves him right.'_

Maybe it was about time the Erebor Riders start admitting things are changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the end of the chill chapters is here, until next time! Don't worry we will get at least two more switches in P.O.V before the end. And instead of a bunch of races and action, more internal conflict unfolds.
> 
> I really agree with Bifur. I do.
> 
> Next Chapter: Mirkwood City. Bilbo learns he's gotta watch his back.
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting, kudo-ing, and all that guys. I heart you for it.  
> New trivia:  
>  **Name the next three teams that the Erebor Riders will race.** You can answer in the comments or chat with me on Tumblr.


	10. Gunmetal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo wants to become a professional biker matchmaker. Coupled with his own reality show, and the inevitable taste of failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. -dances- Oh and someone won the last questionnaire, so pay very very close attention to the details of this chapter, because the next question may pertain to it ;).

**Gunmetal**

Bungo Baggins always told Bilbo to be a simple man. To enjoy the simple things in life, and not to go chasing what he couldn’t handle.

\---

They were setting to leave, Beorn had provided them with a bit of food for travel, to which Bilbo was eternally grateful, and he bade Bilbo good luck with his team. To which the blond twitched in annoyance, but tried to smile back with genuine agreement.

 

"We don't stop until we reach Mirkwood City, Gandalf informed me he will meet us at the entrance.” Thorin slides on his sunglasses, his left hand rested on his thigh in an awkward position. But he still looked most at home back on that bike.

Bilbo tries to imagine Thorin sharing a life with him, one that wasn't constantly on the road, something simple. It didn't seem right.

The light posts increased in number the further they got, and the highway got smoother, and his stomach emptier. Not for the first time he wished to be home again, not hiding this gold flag, watching the same scenery of old dead road, and with a permanent cramped feeling in his wrists. 

He's sure most of the inhabitants of his town never traveled so far. Very few traveled at all and most who did were from his mother's side, the Took family. They liked to go and see the world, to take ships, and planes, and long car rides. And they always returned the gossip of the town. As he would surely be, for his exit from Sackville-Baggins diner, and the people he has chose to associate himself with.

But he's won a race. And he’s a part of a team, not just a lonely ex- Vespa professional, but he’s earned acceptance.

And he's got a sort of relationship once again. With a very gorgeous, though headstrong man, with the most stormy cerulean eyes-

_'A pit of fire'_

His bike veers right and Bofur honks him alert, he knew he was getting a weird look, but the blond continued to gaze straight ahead. 

Since he was a young child he would have strange dreams that would augment paranoia as read too much into them.

Not that they ever came true.

But he had a strong feeling from the soles of his feet that the young man in the column of flames was Frerin. 

\---

The night before, when they had taken time to read a chapter or two of the books they were working on, Ori had said to him. _"There are few cities the group dislikes more than Mirkwood. I'm not fond of it myself, but everywhere there we are distrusted. It just gets worse from that mile marker. Moria, Dale, we don't belong much of anywhere anymore, we’re just a bunch of ‘violent greedy pyromaniacs.’"_

He tried to understand. _"Why do you continue to go then? Why continue on to somewhere you're not wanted. It just seems dangerous, and bullheaded."_

_"Would you want to give up when you got so far?"_

A few weeks ago, he would have said ’Why of course that’s the sensible thing to do'.

Now- He didn't have an answer.

\---

About an hour in he shakes himself out of his daze to try and make something of the setting around him. He angles his face to the left and there's Thorin, riding with no helmet (Really it was a miracle the man wasn't dead, what was he made of?) and that lean body is all nonchalant majesty on dark bike. Bilbo finds himself stealing continuous glances at the man riding next to him because first of all Thorin never rides beside him, second of all he was just the right side of attractive in the sunlight. Or any light.

Should he wave? At this speed would it be safe? Would Thorin see it anyways?

The dark haired leader was looking forward to the road.

Should he say something? His hearing tuned in to fourteen engines.  
Right.

He glanced over again and Thorin's gaze is tilted towards him. There is a small smirk on the elder’s face like he knows what Bilbo is thinking. Bilbo couldn't see those eyes to even get a clue.

But he did have an idea that sent a flare of anticipation to his stiff wrists and palms.

The most playful coy grin he could manage crosses his face. He was sure Thorin could see the way his eyes darted from- in front of him and back to the leader- behind the clear lenses of his goggles. 

The other has a tiny perplexed frown. And without warning Bilbo urges his bike forward, weaving around Oin and then sneaking past Dwalin, all the way to the front where he fits between Fili and Kili, startling the two that he passes them. He glances back and sees Thorin has caught on and is catching up. 

So with as much nerve as he could pull out he looks to the road and right as Thorin pulls up goes forward again.

The empty highway wouldn't be so boring after this.

Thorin has no trouble keeping pace, and Bilbo is too hesitant still to increase his acceleration too much. They continue like this for about two minutes before Thorin advances ahead of him.

Not wanting to be outdone he chases after the long ponytail, and zipped leather jacket. A competitive want escalates within him, and he hears the rest of the team catching up. Kili- clearly unafraid- zips past to Thorin’s position, and Fili is beside Bilbo.

Now they all were in this game. Bilbo grins, he wasn't going to make this easy.

Surrounded on all sides, with Nori in front, Ori to his right, Dwalin pulling up to Kili and Thorin, and the rest not too far behind- if he could see from a blimp Bilbo was sure they were little excitable streaks of color across the grey strip of road.

Myrtle 2 was not going to be beaten so easily, Bilbo raised his position, lowering his body, and he makes arcs around his teammates, his eyes on that spot Kili and Thorin were fighting each other for.

Fifty feet.  
Forty.  
Thirty.

And he's between the red bike and black bike. A most devilish smirk crosses the new member's face because of course he was winning this.

He hoped they were ok with him being ahead a good dozen yards.

It was all about maintaining the speed with the control, so they could make the turns of the highway, or any eased stops. 

In the distance was a bridge suspended over a glittering body of water, and a tunnel, past it, many towers peeked over the man-made horizon of concrete.

They stop in Mirkwood. That had to be Mirkwood. Maybe after the tunnel.  
They were catching upon a large truck, which in turn was catching upon some merging traffic, and Bilbo’s could sense how close Thorin was to him.

He wondered if he would make it in time to get around the eighteen-wheeler. To fit in the dark tunnel just fine, and have room to slow down.

He had to take some chances and make some bad choices.

The stealth is a little dart, his heart a quick beating drum, stuttering with all it's strength as he barely gets around the long vehicle and is cloaked by the extensive tiled tunnel. It was much nicer than the old Bree one, but still it was a part of an old highway that was not used as much as the expressway, it had few lights and strange green painted vines swirling on the walls.

He could see the blue light and exposed grey road of the city, and he clutches urging his ride to slow down.

Victory over the Erebor Riders at last. A self indulgent smile permeates itself on his face. He peeks back, the team was out of sight probably behind the truck and the other traffic of cars.

There was a parking lot in front of a rather abandoned building, and Gandalf's Coupe De Ville was there. He eases Myrtle 2 in the near empty sketchy parking lot.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to show off. A few exhales after he stops in a space, the Erebor Riders join him.

Thorin was the first off his bike, he pushed his sunglasses atop his head and trudged over to Bilbo.

"What were you thinking?"

"Ah well, I was thinking we were just having a little race." Bilbo shrugs, already trying to make himself disappear.

"But with such a reckless move."

"I had calculated it-"

"That doesn't matter it was still reckless."

Oh no, he was not going down that easily. 

"You're just upset I beat you!" He pointed a finger at one of Thorin’s firm pectorals, and then turned away arms crossed. Gloin laughs in the background, the first to reveal he wasn't in conversation with the others, but actually listening there.

"He's got you there laddie. It's nothin' you haven't done before." The fiery bearded man clasps Thorin's shoulder, and the older man continues to glare at his lover.

"There's more to it than that."

"Oh quit your pouting, and lets move on already." Bilbo pats Thorin lightly on his chest, and it was a nice chest too. Ok so maybe he just liked feeling there, was it that obvious?

“Shut up I am not paying you Oin, we weren’t even betting.” Nori grumbles in the back.

"Bilbo's gone mad with power." Kili whispers to his brother, and by whispers, he says at a volume that is normal for most other human beings to have regular conversation with.

Thorin growled behind him.

"What's this about Bilbo going mad with power?" Gandalf was hanging up his phone while he strides towards them (Bilbo is glaring a warning at Kili from Gandalf’s side.). He has a smile on his elderly face, but there was unease evident as well.

"So what news does the council have?" Gloin turns from his poking at Nori for money, crosses his thick arms over his chest. It seems Bifur was also poking at the red head, with a literal small cylindrical piece of wood, and finally Nori handed over a couple of folded bills to the mute man.

"Things are changing, and up in the air. The final races are being determined and might I suggest you try and make it to your next motel without stops."

"But what about those Woodlanders don't we race them next?"

Gandalf shook his head. "Perhaps you don't know. As far as I'm concerned the circuit is still a free for all capture the flag. Just be very careful until the final brackets have been decided."

"And what of you?" Dwalin says. 

"I have some business to take care of so I may not see you until the end."

"But you're our sponsor-"

"And Gloin can tell you I have provided provisions for in case of emergency. I will have further instructions for you, when I see fit, for now." Gandalf makes sure they are all silent, like little children. "Here are the coordinates to the next flag, do not stray from the main road. And good luck, I have faith in you." He, wisely in Bilbo's opinion, hands a piece of paper to Balin, and then leaves the team to stand in belittling confusion.

“We will make for the Old Forest Road Motel, it’s further in the city, keep close.” Balin says starting up his dark grey cross-bike. 

“Why that motel, surely there is one closer?” Bilbo found it puzzling that such a big city wouldn’t have one nearby.

“It’s the only motel that will take us.” Bofur shrugs, and follows suit with everyone else in turning on their engines again.

Bilbo sighs his legs were getting quite tired. 

“Problem Mr. Baggins?” Thorin asks, and Bilbo opens his mouth to correct the ‘Mr’ when he saw that overconfident and all too enticing close- lipped smile.

“Oh no not at all, I sure do enjoy spending every waking moment after breakfast just planted in a crouching position.” The words are dry like tar.

Thorin leans in as close as he can to the round-faced racer. “Then what other position would you prefer?” 

Was that a sexual joke? Did Thorin just make a- Bilbo’s face heated up ten fold and he was at a loss for words when Dwalin lead the group straight to the car heavy road.

He would continue sputtering there if Bofur wasn’t the one to nudge him, again.

He really had to gift Bofur and Ori some day, they had kept him from many daze filled disasters.

Maybe he can gift them by fixing that obvious rift they have with their ‘significant others’ (Is it significant others if they weren’t together, but in Bilbo’s eyes, obviously close enough to that status?)

Bilbo Baggins, motorcycle gang matchmaker, reach him by e-mail every other Tuesday for an appointment. 

Charges based off of complexity and both partner’s ability to communicate. Fine print would state ‘Do as I say not as I do’ in reference to his own relationship woes and choice of partners.

Well that was a delightful thought wasn’t it? He would have to actually take that into consideration, and set himself up for the inevitable failure of the business. 

That’s it! If it’s the last thing he does he will fix the mess that has happened. Thought it is really none of his business, he might as well add that to another recently developed personality defect. Messing with things that aren’t any of his business.

He was starting to dread the sound of a million literal engines occupying his ear canals and jolting him out of his daydreams.

It was like traveling down a street and falling in a fisher’s net. They were targets on their back, large dark shelled lobsters that got too close and now were overwhelmed in an ambush . It wasn't even dead at night, but they were being accosted all of a sudden by many- many bikes. They were of a strange dusky black, and have gleaming metal spikes at the front and the back. The owners moved next to the Erebor riders, pushing against them, and Bilbo's internal panic meter was rising higher and higher and higher way past maximum capacity.

They were scattered like little animals, forced down different streets and rounded up, and he tried to get any clues on the team but they also wore dark helmets. 

The rider next to him gets close enough that he is pressured in to going down another connected street, this one was a one- way. Another bullied him by sandwiching him on the other side. He could do nothing but go forward.

He pulls out onto a thicker piece of road without looking, and almost slams into Kili. It seems at least the brothers got to stay together, and he tagged along with them as if they were a holy light of opportunity. 

There was a tight squeeze of another one-way alley ahead. Onlookers were turning their heads at the noise, and Bilbo just wanted to get away from the path these bikers were trying to force them to go. If this were on Shire Lane…

Ahead was a green sign, signaling another tunnel. Bilbo pushes as best as he damn well could, breaks away from his ‘captors’, and waves an arm between the brothers. Hopefully they got the message.

 

It would be darker in the city when he gets them lost.He follows the signs, darting down street after thin street, squeezing past civilian cars until the open mouth of the dark crevice was visible. 

Where the hell were the police in this place? Not that he wanted to be stopped.

These leeches were after something specific. And his mind went to the flag in his pack.

They dip into another one of the tunnels, staying close in the right lane, Fili and Kili are following him but he's just trying to get somewhere with more light.

It was eerily silent through the man-made cavern. Halfway through the yellow lights become more spread apart, and a roar happens above them, the rickety metal strip of subway above the tunnel was being hammered down by a train. He tried to concentrate through the noise, and by the time it stops there is a ringing in his ears, and the tunnel has gone darker except for his headlights. 

He tried to swallow down the shaky nerves.

His solid handles turn loose under his sweaty grip.

But he's so close, and his speed even lower. He tries to turn the bike so that it comes to an easier stop, and closes his eyes for just a moment just feeling the inevitable happen in slow motion.

Right outside the tunnel, as he hits the cool un-concentrated air, Bilbo falls off. His body skids, and feels the burn as he hits hard asphalt, arms first, knees scraping the ground a blinding sting sends tears to his eyes and he cries out just a bit of strangled pain.

"Bilbo! Bilbo are you ok?" Kili's bike cuts off, as does another.

He feels something tickle his face and opens his eyes to see light blue eyes staring back. Fili was examining a bit too close. And Kili seemed to be turning off Myrtle 2 and setting it up right. 

"I'm alright, I'm alright. Um a little space please Fili."

"Right." Fili leans back and sort of falls on his butt on the dry piece of road. "We lost them."

"Yes but we're lost as well." Bilbo points out trying to push himself up off his back without rubbing his already bruised elbows. He never got so many injuries racing his Vespa. He gazes around the area, squinting his eyes in the blue-black night, making out only thick bushes, trees, and more concrete. The city lights twinkle in the background.

“You know it’s hell trying to follow you-“ Kili says a toothy grin back in place on his visage.

"I think I saw Uncle make a right back on Main Street. The team wasn't too far from us, until we really started getting crowded." 

"What was that anyways?" Bilbo says trying to rub away the throbbing pain that blooms in his head.

"I don't know, I've never seen that team before."

"They're the Spyders." Fili says. "I heard Uncle talk about them before, they don't always compete because they don't care much for racing."

"Clearly, that was just a-an attack, it was ridiculous!" Bilbo waved his arms, and then winced in pain. He would be bruised for days.

"I'm going to call Uncle, maybe we can reach someone." Fili pulls out his phone from the compartment of his glittering blue bike. 

A few minutes later Kili and Bilbo are sitting in silence just listening to Fili try and reach someone. Finally he is talking but neither move.

Bilbo just observes Myrtle 2 who is looking quite tired.

"I've got an address. Finally was able to reach Gloin, it doesn't sound good at all right now." Fili climbs on his bike, and Bilbo sighs dread just filling him as he gets on his own.

Kili is the first to follow his brother, and Bilbo tries hard not to lag behind.

They pull into a parking lot of some generic motel, the others are there, though looking scattered, and none too happy.

Dwalin is pacing with large clenched fists and Dori was purple in the face under the light of the neon signs. Bilbo thought it was a trick of the color until he notice Oin sitting on the sidewalk with Ori, who was wincing in pain, Bombur is sitting beside him as well, with several bruises on his face, blood trickling down from his forehead and the quiet man looked downtrodden. The blond rushes over.

"What happened?"

"Few of the Spyders knocked them off." Nori's voice sounds distant, wrapped in concealed cold fury. It sent a shiver down Bilbo’s spine when he saw Ori's face with a blue nasty looking spot on his eye, and his jaw. 

The rotund biker, and one of their youngest both looked like they were bludgeoned. 

"I'm sorry. We fought them off the best we could, but they took our flags." Bombur says.

"What?" Now Bilbo felt icy all over. “All of them?”

Ori looked like he was determined not to cry from resignation, he wipes his face with a wiry hand, removing some kind of string from himself.

"They took three, we've got two not including our team flag." 

"And I thought Orcs played dirty." The middle Rieve brother spits.

"It was hard to see them, they were quick, and there was something weird that they sprayed from cans." Bombur near whispers. Bilbo notes there’s also splotches of something sticky and web-like on the orange haired biker’s leather jacket. The blond was very glad he and the Durin brothers weren’t caught by their opponents.

"It was neither one of your faults, you tried the best you could. We need to regroup again, and get some food." It was moments like these Bilbo admired Thorin's leadership, though he clearly was seething, he was remaining level headed enough. "You two need somewhere to rest."

"I'll be fine!" Ori stubbornly retaliates. Dori is over him in a second.

 

"Not for a couple days you won't lad. You're lucky." Oin tuts helping Ori stand.

“Be quiet and just listen to Thorin,” the white haired doter hisses.

"I'm not feeling so well." Bombur admits, and he's looking a tinge green. Bofur is hovering by his brother in an attachment only siblings would understand. Bifur stands off a stoic presence over the two. The team appears mostly dirty, and extremely tired, but none were bleeding and injured like Ori and Bombur.

It just didn't sit right with Bilbo. Everything was against them, everyone was against them, and now his friends were injured after being practically jumped. 

 

\----

He didn't feel much better in his motel room. He was sharing with Thorin this time, and normally he'd dwell on it, and become sick to his stomach in nerves, and just debate with himself over decency but right now he was livid. 

 

Thorin was sending him strange looks from the other bed but he couldn't be bothered to match them, he just continued to sit glaring at the same page of his novel for a while now. 

The bed dipped a bit lower beside him.

"Were you injured?" That low baritone almost took him out of his mood.

"Just a little bruised is all." And an awkward pause came between them. Bilbo shuts his book loud enough to startle the taller man. "I just don't get where was the honor in that!"

 

"There was none."

"To to to..maul someone for some cloth rather than racing like any partially sane person. What the hell was that, and with some weird string too!” He stood up and paced around the small motel room, a hand to his forehead. “That would never go on in any of the Vespa matches.”

"It happens in the Circuit, often."

"That doesn't make it right!"

"No but we have had to deal with it for years, you wouldn't understand."

Bilbo halts in his pacing. "Of course because I’m just the weird little outsider."  
He's moving his arms so fast for emphasis that he forgets about his skinned limbs and winces.

“I did not say that.” Thorin levels him with a deadpan stare, and gets up. "Take off your jacket."

"I beg your pardon?" 

"It's given. Now take off your jacket, you're injured."

Bilbo flushes and turns his gaze to the ground as he removes the sticky layer of thick fabric. Looking at his arms, they've been reddened and it was at least good he wore gloves or the skin of his palms would be as torn and welts just as pink.

"You should’ve showed Oin."

"It doesn’t feel that bad."

"Why didn't you say something had happened?"

"It wasn't that bad of a fall-"

"You fell off your bike?"

"Yes, but Fili and Kili could tell you-"

"They hardly take care of themselves, and now I'm seeing you're just as bad."

"As are you!"

"It's different."

"How is it any different?"

"I actually belong here!" Thorin is grasping one of his wrists, and calloused hands feel rough against his still soft skin and those torrid azure eyes look distant.

"Right I forgot, I'm still just the spare." Bilbo's laugh is dry.

"I did not mean it that way." The large hand lets go, and he takes a step back.

"But you did didn't you? You've been looking at me like that since the beginning. Like I can't possibly understand the choice I made, that I'm not worthy to even have one of your jackets and call myself an actual racer. And I thought by winning that last race something has changed, that I have been accepted. No it just made you view me as this crazy untamable squirrel! Not a proper threat, but still a nuisance. Now I know I'm not Frerin but you have to stop treating me like I'm trying to deliberately and maliciously trying to take his place! Because obviously I'm not, if you kissing me is any indication, unless there's something-" Bilbo was breathing hard by the end, trying to count in his mind. He risked glancing at Thorin's expression, and realized his mistake. 

It was painfully unreadable. "I'm sorry that was out of-"

"Who told you?"

"W-What?"

"Who told you what they had no right to tell, who told you about my brother?"

Time to save Nori's ass. "No no one, I um-" Well that sounds just stupid. Thorin was standing close, and it was rather scary, he was a still cobra ready to lash out at any moment.

"Who was it? Gandalf? He would tell you lies, and the team would never speak of him to you." That stung Bilbo like a blade poking right in between his rib cage.

"Now see here no one is telling me lies. I know that you were close, and that he died in a fire five years ago" Stop talking Bilbo the Baggins side tries to remind him. “That you all were blamed for.”

"It was none of your business."

The pot boiled inside him again. "I rather think it is, isn't it? I mean I signed that contract, I'm getting involved in a whole lot more than a simple race, I have nearly lost my life more times than I can ever count."

A single corner of Thorin's mouth twitched upwards in a condescending way. "It just cements that you don't belong, you're too used to your soft little races."

"And back with the insulting! That is unfair for you to judge me in such a way, you’re like a child!"

"You’re the one who knows nothing of the outside world. You have spent half of your time wishing to be coddled by the rest of us, you expect to be treated in the same way your parents have provided for you with a warm home and guided every step. Life is unfair Mr. Baggins-" Thorin's voice is a tremor of pure intention to hurt. "You had no right to say his name! You are not worthy of his bike, not until I say so."

He was not going to cry, not in front of this man. He was back to square one again, nothing but a weak new born needing to be eased into opening his eyes. This is what their leader still thought of Bilbo? Right when he was starting to actually like the man- And right now he liked the incensed leader more than he should.

They stand there the closest thing to them touching is there shadows. The silence was palpable. Bilbo raises his head, blue irises wet but burning. 

"Alright, I see that- I I'm going to go to Oin now. To have my injuries looked at. I will see you-" He moves around Thorin, dodging the hand that reaches for him out of reflex. He grabs his jacket and stalks out, feeling like a miserable teen girl .

Thorin's just in a bad mood because of the flags, right? Bilbo sucks in some air and sputters out stale coughs, willing nothing to fall. 

He shouldn't have opened his damn mouth. He should have just accepted what Thorin suggested, and not brought up Frerin.

He walks past Oin and Gloin’s room and out the doors of the motel. He’s disappointed life wasn't like a romantic comedy, where Thorin- if he was the standard love interest- would be calling after him by now.

No life was a satire, a black comedy where mistakes stuck, and when people fight they stay mad at each other. Sometimes forever. And he will have to crawl back for forgiveness. 

He lets the blast of the fresh late night breeze hit him. His vision is blurry in the dark neon lights.

Bilbo’s legs carry him down the sidewalk.

He's a twenty eight year old with an English degree, no novel, a soft belly and who used to work at his cousin's diner. Now he's gallivanting across the world on a sport bike that he didn't own, racing in something definitely illegal.

He's made friends with a group of strange men, a collective of bright un-measured personalities not found in a stiff office building. People who are living a life he couldn't have dared.  
He desperately wanted to belong. It was pathetic, but he will go back and grovel.

He was never good at making friends.

Bilbo tramps, hands balled into fists, another block not bothering to check where the hell he's gone. He was fully aware of how dirty, freezing, tired, and frustrated he was.

How the fuck did he let himself fall in love, after all this time, with a man who couldn't get over his failures?

Bilbo's legs are numb some uncountable minutes later. He’s floating in a personal purgatory. He kicks a rock, as hard as he can with his boot.  
It hits the slur painted wall of the nearest building. It's a bar, seedy as ever and packed with as many motorcycles as possible. He didn't have an Erebor Rider's Jacket, so it’s not like anyone would care if he was there. Or know what team he belonged to.

The blond checks his pockets, yep his slim ugly wallet was there, along with his father's pristine collectable Swiss army knife, and that random little key. Well why the hell not? If he's going to go back and deal with the rage monster that was Thorin 'Oakenshield' Durin, he sure as hell was going to get a drink first.

Or three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that literally got a little out of my hands. Thorin and Bilbo wanted a fight that I did not plan, and i kinda was down for it.
> 
> Whatever.
> 
> Thanks for reading guys! I love every response I get because this baby is my first fanfic and the fact that anyone is reading it is just awesome. 
> 
> Oh man I wanna do a one-shot extra of Thorin and Bilbo's moment at Beorn's cabin that was glossed over.
> 
> Next Chapter- Bilbo gets revenge.  
> Chapter 11 should be out by Saturday in EST, so look out for it!


	11. Beige

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is 'The Burglar'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Thorin's P.O.V Chapter happened much sooner than I expected, and it's kind of a cheat because it's cut right down the middle, so I think he's gonna have another one or two in the future.
> 
> I am working on a one-shot for the person who answered the last question correctly, they messaged me on tumblr with it about a week back when Chapter 9 was released. The answer was: three future teams are the Woodlanders, The Sons of Dale, and of course the Spyders.
> 
> **New question, it's kind of easy. Maybe.**
> 
> Who's bike do you think this chapter is named after?
> 
> Hint: It's not an Erebor Rider's.
> 
> Side note: Oh hair Legolas, nice to see you appear when I didn't expect.

**Beige**

 

He was in another world, one that only contained the sound of dozens of purring engines, a cloud of pungent floating exhaust, and the utter sharp tingle of surety laced in his blood. He looks to his right, and Dís is beside him, her long hair in a braid down her back, and sharp blue eyes wide with anticipation. She looks over to him and smirks.

“You two ready to lose to me, again?” The youngest Durin sibling says from Thorin’s left, he turned to survey his brother. That wild dark hair was in its familiar ponytail, and his smirk more self-satisfied than Dís’. 

“Oh please, you win a couple times and suddenly you’re the best.” His sister rolled her eyes.

“More than a couple.” Frerin leaned from his position on his bike closer to Thorin, and the elder nudges his brother away.

“Just focus on the road you two.” Thorin ordered, he tried to focus on the twisting pavement before them. It was a long track he could not even see where it led. Just an exciting slab of blockaded old road that went unused and unfinished.

“Dwalin thinks I’m going to win. Right Dwalin?” Frerin points his thumb back at the buff man with the tall Mohawk. 

Dwalin grunts in response. 

“I’m actually thinking, that you all will be kissing my rear end this time.” Bofur interjects with careful emphasis and a dimpled grin.

“Ah Ah Bofur, arrogance leads to disappointment.” Frerin tuts as if he wasn’t just bragging.

“Shut up you all it’s starting.” Thorin snaps, not ready to hear another bout of petty banter.

A finals referee, appointed by the Council, walked to the front of all the teams.

“Alright lads time to kick some sorry ass! For the Durin line.” Frerin shouts a wide grin squints his eyes, and he looks most comfortable on his bike, with nothing but artificial headlights and the soft glow of the crescent moon illuminating him. Behind them the team roars, the loudest of all the people there. The eldest two siblings swap a smile..

Thorin leans over to his energetic brother. “Don’t cry when you lose little brother.” He whispers, and the grin he receives in turn promises a challenge.

 

\----

 

Thorin was trying very hard to maintain his stoic demeanor. 

"What do you mean he left?" Bofur exclaims. The motel staff was glancing over at the raised accented voice. It was around two in the morning by this time.

Thorin had spent a good amount of the late night considering how he was going to apologize, and pacing around the bed he had mussed in a bout of anger. He knew he had lashed out, unreasonably. Hearing about his brother is like a sore trigger, and to add another wound to his pride, Bilbo was saying everything he was trying to convince himself of. That the attractive man was not a threat, and he has earned his place several times over on the team.

The leader assumed Bilbo did not want to stay in the room with him any longer, and that’s why he hasn’t returned yet. That hurt a little bit, he’d admit. So he decided to go to Oin’s and see if he could at least explain himself further when he found out the blond never stopped by. 

So his next hope was to find his target in the lobby with a few of the team members- who were playing cards in a shared fit of insomnia.

He tried to be subtle about the current issue. Instead he ends up with more than a couple sets of eyes glaring at him, and Dwalin playing the role of the silent all too analytical best friend. 

"He said he was going to Oin for some injuries he had." He bit back like a wounded cat. 

Nori comes into the small motel lobby after he had soundlessly left when Thorin first opened his mouth. "His bike is still there." The red head says to Bofur.

"Do we even have an idea where he could have gone?" Fili said from his place on one of the plastic chairs.

“Maybe to a library?” Kili suggests.

“He does like books.”

"How long has it been since Bilbo left?" Bofur’s judgmental brown eyes were on him, like an overprotective mother.

"I don't know a couple hours. " Thorin ground out. Does their wildcard have his entire team around that treacherous finger? Wasn’t it enough to have Thorin wanting to crawl back with remorseful words?

He would not crawl though, that was beneath him.

"And why did Bilbo leave?" Nori’s clever hazel eyes sweep over him. Rieve and Broadbeam were like jets with a target lock on. 

"It doesn't matter." He snaps at his gang members. "We're going to have to search for him."

“Some of us should stay here, in the case of our bikes, and if the lad returns.” Balin surmises, possibly hinting at the fact that only Dwalin, Nori, Fili, Kili and Bofur were out here with him. The elder eyes Thorin like he knows the raven locked man had a big part in it. Thorin’s shoulders raise just a fraction in guilt.

"Poor Bilbo, he'd never survive out there. He's probably starving, and alone, and drowning in his sorrows." Kili lamented.

"He's not a cat." Bofur corrects.

"No that's right he's a squirrel and our team mascot."

"Still starving and lonely." Fili says standing from his chair, and stretching his back enough for Thorin to hear a crack.

"Likely to get scammed by a hooker." Kili was dropped when he was a child, Thorin assumed this is now karma because he was the one who dropped the tiny toddler in surprise when he was bitten.

"Have some faith in the guy, he might get scammed by a high class hooker." Nori adds.

"You know what happened the last time he got separated from us? He passed out for hours!" 

"He could get kidnapped."

Fili and Kili, with Bofur and Nori's help, just kept listing the things that could happen. It was piling up and up like layers of thick molten lava, and Thorin hadn’t enough care to want to pick out who was saying what at the moment.

"Aye and he is out there in streets that are not for gentle folk who could neither fight nor fend for themselves." Now Dwalin's joined in on the worry committee.

"Can we just go out and look? The longer we sit here on our asses, the less of a chance we have of finding him!” Thorin shouts before taking initiative and stomping out of the stale scented lobby. “He couldn’t have gotten far, it was a long day and he’s on foot.”

To his personal satisfaction they had quieted and were following behind with loud footsteps on the ugly chartreuse patterned carpet.

Thorin shivers under the unexpected chill of the outside, and he began scanning the area for a starting point when his vision froze on the sidewalk about thirty feet away. There was Bilbo lying on his back on the dirty ground, knees propped up.

"Bilbo!" Kili exclaimed.

Thorin sighed, internally, in relief.

The blond sat up startled, though his movements were strange and slow. He turned several times before looking at them with wide, glossed over eyes, and stood up stumbling every step of the way. 

"Guys." A sloppy grin crosses the small man’s face. Then he glares at Thorin. "Wait, you."

"Bilbo why the hell do you smell like a box of beer?" Bofur starts fretting like an older brother who is trying not to show he gives a damn, as if Bilbo wasn’t a full-grown adult. 

"I had three." He holds up four fingers with one hand. "No no don't touch me. Guys I have something to extrapolate to you." He swats Bofur away.

And Thorin notes the knife pointed at them. It's a tiny little blade but still-

"Is that a green flag?”

"Ah, ah. Shh Dwalin. Tonight. I have exceeded all expectations. Rather think." He hiccups. "I rather think, I need a new pseudonym. Call me the Burglar from now on." His words trail off as he shoves the green cloth in Thorin’s chest, and steps away. 

“Take that.”

They all blink at him, and Thorin clutches the worn fabric. 

"Why don't you come inside?" Dwalin, out of all people tries to console.

"No I have to tell you my story!" He swishes the blade at Dwalin like it was an extension of his finger. He was the little inexperienced warrior, threatening a stone formed giant. It would be hilarious enough for Thorin to crack a smile in any other circumstance.

Then the blue-grey eyed man sits down cross-legged, and pats the ground around him. Looking small and temperate.

"Sit down. It's cold but it makes for good stories for la- yes you too Nori sit. Sit down." The stuffy voice orders. Thorin hesitates under the drunken glare, when the knife is pointed at him he figures it’s not worth the risk of the weapon wielder lopping his own finger off with that switchblade.

He nods at Nori to signal 'get that thing away from him.'

"I thought you were one of those ‘dead inside’ drunks?" Nori starts.

"Listen there are two sides to my drunkenness, there's Baggins. And then Took, and right now I am a Took."

"He's definitely gone mad." Thorin agreed with his gold haired nephew.

Bilbo glared at Fili." Stop interrupting me! Now let's begin, oh I do love telling stories. Did you know for an internship I used to read to- Right yes. It all began in a hole in the ground. No, that’s not right. A hole in the wall bar.-"

**Four hours prior.**

The stone he has kicked bounces off the wall of a very unhygienic looking location. It made promises of cheap beer on its misspelled sign, and the name was in poor faded lettering that was nigh unreadable at night.

Bilbo’s throat craved a half decent lager that he wouldn’t find here. Or something strong, and fruity yet sour, like a Cosmo- that he still wouldn’t find here. Maybe the bartender was quite talented in mixing. Never judge a book by its cover as the cliché is told.

So he walks in through the front and is met with the syndrome of ‘it’s bigger on the inside’- sort of- it was quite crammed and smelled like the underside of a sweaty arm. The patrons paid no heed to him, instead the men littered around were more preoccupied in their individual drinks.

Bilbo spots a stool at the bar, behind it was the standard cabinet layered high up with the displayed alcohol, and the man working it was average, with unexpected sleepy grey eyes. He fixes Bilbo a look of disinterest when he sits.

“What you want?” A gold tooth glints when he speaks.

Bilbo gulps and settles with something his professor had ordered on the night of his thesis defense celebration. He always envied that professor, with his clean-cut suit, and neat bristle mustache. “Ah I see you have- I’ll have some of your finest vodka.” The way his professor had said that, years ago, made the words roll off his tongue with a posh air.

The man next to him (Who’s arms were large and had standard animal tattoos covering their surface.) was looking down at Bilbo with a leer that made him feel weak and uncomfortable.

“ID.” The bartender rolls his eyes when Bilbo flashes it to him, and produces a good half a cup. The taste is bitter and not at all sweet, and the aftertaste even worse down his tongue. But he is determined to finish it, with every cringe, under the curious eye of the person next to him and the assuming gaze of the bartender.

He was feeling light headed already. “Excuse me.” He says as the bartender hands another customer something in a bottle. “I’ll have whatever he has.”

Two beers later and he was comfortable enough to actually talk to the man next to him rather than be afraid. He learned the guy’s name was Larry and he was a carpenter, and he asked if Bilbo had a friend named Dorothy. Bilbo said he had once and afterwards Larry was more receptive to conversation.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know any one used that test anymore.

Larry did seem disappointed when Bilbo mentioned he was very very angry at his current ‘boyfriend’ lover, (Something that involved heavy and very hot make-out sessions when no one was looking, and terrible communication on their current status) because said person was an ass.

And then Bilbo got preoccupied in his own muddled thoughts, nursing another light piss tasting beer in his hands. He pretended to not feel reclusive and pathetic at a bar by himself, like that one time after Holman broke up with him, and instead tried to analyze the other patrons. They looked rather familiar, with their varying visages of skin tones, and strange spindly bodies.

They all had their chairs placed around a few mashed together tables, and one sat at the center, he was bald and loud and on his neck, from what Bilbo could see at a decent distance, is a big blue inked spider.

The English major prided himself at being a top notch clever man at connecting the dots, so it didn’t take long for fear to climb like ice in his veins.

Maybe if he didn’t move he wouldn’t be noticed. Larry nudged him a bit with a meaty elbow as he followed Bilbo’s line of sight. Bilbo tried to relax his body.

“The Spyders are always here at night, know you’re new but they don’t mess much with anyone who ain’t a biker.”

Right Bilbo didn’t have a cool leather jacket. He was unassuming. But he did keep watch out of curiosity, he wanted to get closer, to know what they were talking about. Maybe they were talking about the race, and insulting the team. Oh those- those simpletons. Outrage reared its ugly head inside of Bilbo. He said to Larry ‘seat-check’ like classmates did in primary school, and crept closer as quiet as he could on the slick wood floor boards with his fourth beer in hand. It tasted much better the more he drank he realized.

He leaned, in a casual act, against one of the tables that was near his height, and his elbow slipped when the door opened to a crowd relatively opposite of the rest of the occupants (Almost all Spyder’s were here he actualized with a new need to get the hell out of there.) of the bar.

Then entered a group of rather clean looking men and women. They were all sort of freakishly tall, and slender, and the man to the forefront was enviably gorgeous. It was eerie, he had a cold gaze, and long blond hair with shaved sides, he'd be rather appealing if one was into Elk horn tattoos on arms, and a bunch of pretty flowery ink.

Bilbo kind of was.

He strides up to the wiry bald leader of the Spyders. 

"Where are the Erebor Riders?" His voice is smooth and superior. 

"What does it matter we have got their flags." The bald man narrows his eyes.

"It matters because those should be our flags." An auburn haired woman says, her hand is to her side. Though she was a searing beauty she had the visage of someone Bilbo would not want to mess with.

"We earned them." Another one of the Spyders hisses.

"No you did not, you cheated with your tricky little toy cans and childish ambushing techniques. I’m only mildly surprised they fell for it. Do you even know if you got them all?" The silvery haired man said with disinterest.

And anger was bubbling in Bilbo again, this time at both teams. He continues to watch from his spot, (A few of the Spyder members had stood up, and possibly concealed his presence.) feeling rather glad of his small size at the moment.

"What does it matter, we got enough for Gundabad. You want some get your own. Rumor has it they have a gold flag."

"Didn't see one though." Another Spyder says from the leader’s right.

"Of course not what would that misfit lot be doing with a gold flag?" The blond sniffed.

" Then it’s settled, we have nothing you want. Now if you don't mind I'm trying to finish my drink-" The bald man says torso half turning away.

"Give us a reason now not to just take your flags from you." The woman bites at the Spyder leader. Now the man stands up to face her.

Another blond, much younger Bilbo supposed, rests his hand on the woman's elbow. He looks similarly like the leader of the gorgeous pack. His blue eyes are scanning the crowd, and his gaze rests on the hiding Erebor Rider. 

The honey haired man returns to his drink quickly. 

"Contain your bitch Thranduil, or-" Whatever the Spyder member said was muddled by the woman's fist colliding with his jaw.

"Tauriel." Thranduil monotones.

"What? This meeting was never going to end pretty."

The leader turns his head to the knocked over man, and the tense gang. 

"True. Search them until they tell us what they know."

And the fight that breaks out is rather wild. There are chairs knocked around, the bartender is hiding behind his serving table, and Bilbo hits the floor, ducking a bottle that is thrown in his direction, his brain disoriented by alcohol.

He finds himself crawling on the sticky ground, some liquid falls on him but he just keeps going- skirting around the flurry of rough bodies. The gorgeous people seem to pack a rather lethal punch compared to the Spyders.

When the door gets within sight he stands up, and a hand stops him.

"It is dangerous to travel alone in these parts." A soft male voice teases.

He closes his eyes waiting for a punch that never came.

"No need to worry, I won't attack you." The blond doppelganger whispers. 

"G-Good because I have this knife." He takes out his father's switchblade, and struggles with flicking it open, and the compass pops out instead. The lithe man looks at him in amusement and takes the blade. With a wrist swish it pops open to the blade part.

"Here you go." It is handed back, handle facing Bilbo.

"R-Right. Thank you." And awkwardness settles over him.

"Strange manners for an Erebor Rider."

Bilbo laughs nervously. "A-ah-um-"

"I wasn't sure, and I'm still not because I have never seen you before, but there were rumors of a new member, and the entire time my father and Grendle conversed you were very tense. So I have to assume you’re the one who beat Azog." The blond punk leads Bilbo outside, eyes assessing him all the while, he tilts his head with an almost innocent curiosity when they stop. "You don't look like them."

"It's the lack of beard." Bilbo motions to his face. The world is only a bit closer than he'd like.

"Now, I could use you and tell my father that we've got their wildcard-"

"See here-"

" _Or_ you could help me with something." Those blue eyes went from looking serene and far off to mischievous and reminding him Fili.

"What exactly?" He slurs out and the other man turns his head to the parking lot. There are many glittering bikes, and then of course the rather hated black models of the Spyders. "The Woodlanders hate the Spyders more than they hate The Erebor Riders. Almost as much as Orcs, and I'd love nothing more than to take advantage of our opportunity." The blond flicks out his own knife, it's a bit longer, with curved steel. "Just a little poke to their tires should do."

"You want to-" The stranger covers Bilbo's mouth because his voice is raised. When his mouth is released Bilbo whispers. "You want to slash their tires?"

The man shrugs, his long platinum hair shifting from his shoulders to his back. 'Why not? Muster up some courage. Don't you dislike them too?"

"I hate them. But I can't." But he could. Imagine if he did. Then Thorin could not possibly look down upon him after that. "But I can."

"Good. Lets get started why don't we-"

"Burglar." Bilbo blurts out the first ‘badass’ codename he could think. And he realized it was a very obvious one at that, that doesn't help with those thief rumors-

The rival gang member's smirk just reeks of wit. "And you can call me Archer. Now. We should start as soon as possible. Nothing too obvious, just aim for the base of their back tires only. That way they don't notice as early."

Bilbo was afraid of getting caught in the black darkness of the night. Oh he was afraid, and only his adrenaline drove him to follow Archer and start on the very first vehicle he could reach.

Archer already slashed his first. it deflated in a subtle slump. "Why don't we play a game Burglar? The person with the most slashes wins. That's one for me, you're already behind."

Bilbo looks at the bike next to it and gulps, he crouches by the back tire and closes his eyes, shoves his hand forward for one swift poke.

Success was his. He watched Archer dart ahead afterwards and start slashing another. In a drunken manic bout of insanity, he follows suit.

It wasn't so bad, cutting the tires, he just channeled all of the dislike he could for the enemy and started going at it. Counting in his head, though with much slow difficulty. 

He was dizzy with power and exhilaration, his hands grew accustomed to the movement, his legs put their last efforts of the night into jumping over bikes, and his knees bent in good nature with each crouch. Until he reached number 14, and they were all conquered.

He looked at one other bike close by, it was large, elegant and glowed a sleek beige. He could make out painted green rims under the dim yellow lamppost. He reaches out to touch the smooth looking surface.

“My final count is seventeen.” The tall man stands up straight and pats Bilbo on the shoulder, distracting the short man from his fascination.

"You really got into it Burglar, for that, I think you deserve this." Archer hands him a single flag, one of the green ones they had apparently lost. "I would hate to not see you in a race because of these men. So keep it."

"Thank you." He takes the flag then narrows his eyes at the attractive man in suspicion. "Wait- you're not expecting anything back?"

"No father will be fine with the rest of the flags here, I’ll just mention there were only five. And I think our races would go a lot better if we didn't go on a hunt for your team before you were ready."

"You'd lose." Bilbo's tongue slipped, and then he shut his jaw, eyes wide.

"There's that Erebor arrogance." Archer laughs, everything about the tattooed young man was graceful. Bilbo may have the smallest crush forming. Just admiration, and a little bit of envy.

"You are not so bad yourself Burglar." Foot in mouth disease is something Bilbo suffers from on a daily, and lack of brain to mouth filter was a more weekly habit. "A little shorter than my tastes, but you'd make an attractive friend." He feels his curls being patted, and it makes him go cross-eyed.

"That's Good….Um, I have to go now, back, somewhere, cause they would. Need me, and stuff." Never has he been so ineloquent. Besides all of the conversations he's had with Thorin thus far.

"Well much luck to you my new friend." The blond gives him one more smile, before he slinks away, and Bilbo is left to stumble the streets, the full effects of alcohol giving him a most dazed footing. He tries closing his blade several times, but he ends up cutting his finger, so he gives up and walks in circles until something familiar happens.

He just slashed the tires of the cheaters. He clutches the flag in his other hand. He got them another flag, he's really good at flag finding isn’t he? He grins to himself.

“Vengeance was the Burglars.” He laughs. With utter surety he can say- oh hey there is the motel.

He stops at the front doors, and considers walking in, but his body wants to sit down because the concrete feels warm under his boots, he knows it does.  
So he sits down- and it is much colder than he thought. And then decides to lay back, eyes half lidded and for once he had nothing on his mind but the calm thud of his heart.

 

\---

“I’m just asking for a little appreciation.” Bilbo finishes as he fixes them with glazed malcontent.

"I don't know what part of that story I believe." Nori says with his arms crossed. "Damnit Bilbo give me the damn blade I'll close it for you."

Bilbo hands it over after staring at the outstretched hand for a few moments.

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Nori's just being an asshole like usual, I believe yah Bilbo It's just-" Bofur started, ignoring the hurt- cold look Nori sent his way. "You went to a bar with the Spyders and stayed there?" The hat wearer sounded like he would never let Bilbo by himself again.

 

"You worked with a Woodlander?" Dwalin growled.

 

"You found those floozy pissers attractive?" The words left Thorin’s mouth like he was back in school starving for the attentions of Freya Goldbell. 

“Yes. A different kind of attractive if you are so- so, affronted.” Bilbo sticks his nose in the air.

“That’s it.” Dwalin is more impatient than Thorin was, and he hauls himself up, bends over and gathers the small-bodied male in his muscled arms. “You have told your story- lad you had better stop shushing me or I will knock you out- it is time for your drunk ass to get in bed. Whether in Thorin’s or your own, I don’t give a damn.”

Bilbo tries to hit Dwalin, but his eyelids droop close and he leans his head on the man, passed out.

“So what we’ve gathered tonight.” Nori’s tone is dripping with sarcasm as they walk the narrow plain colored halls of their current living space. “Is that we should blame Thorin for Bilbo’s disappearance and anger, and that he is completely incapable of holding his alcohol, he is easily influenced and will work with anyone when drunk, and then he’s very bossy and likes to tell us stories. Oh and the only way to placate him is to wrap him in the loving arms of our generally always muscleman here.” 

When they reach Thorin and Bilbo’s shared room Dwalin sets the sleeping man on the bed with no grace. Thorin avoided meeting the eyes of those who he knew wanted to say something. Fili and Kili had wandered off, happy that Bilbo was back, but Bofur and Nori still stood in the doorway.

“Why was Bilbo talking about being accepted and all that shit?” Nori pried where Thorin didn’t want him to.

“We had an- exchange of words.” It sounded distant and formal rather than soothing. “He mentioned Frerin.” Now he sounded accusatory. Both men stiffened under his electric glare.

“Yeah well I told him about it.” Nori said.

“You had no right!” He had been saying that a lot lately, but now he had a target to blame. Nori steps close into his space, showing that he wasn’t afraid to contest Thorin -like the leader always knew in the back of his mind- but he just chose not to.

“Nori-“ Dwalin warned.

“The fuck I don’t. I was there too, and I’m just as much a part of this team as you. What would you have done? Kept yelling at him about how he doesn’t belong, while bottling up your raging hardon. Listen I respect you and all Thorin, but you gotta let go.” Nori strode away in the direction of the lobby again. The dark haired man clenches his fist, and hits it hard against the wall; a light throb shoots through to his wrist. But he doesn’t curse.

“Thorin, I know you’re hurtin’ and all, but the more you push it away, the more it’s gonna kill yah in the end.” Bofur said, with sad eyes. Thorin forgets sometimes, the plait wearer was one of Frerin’s closest friends out of the team. He watches the brunette walk away in the opposite direction of his best friend.

Dwalin leaves with an empathetic pat on Thorin’s shoulder.

He looks across the room at Bilbo’s form curled up on top of the sheets, and cuts off the lights.

 

That night Thorin dreamt the same words over and over, ‘I’m sorry we have not found your brother’s body.’ And each time in the dream, the emotions, the greedy need to have vengeance, to not be satisfied until someone pays, swirls through his body until it’s consumed by a tidal wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange end that kinda surprised me even when I was writing it. I think this entire chapter surprised me despite it being planned for a little while now.
> 
> Nori and Bofur's arc is getting close to being wrapped up!
> 
> Did you guys enjoy the little bit of Thorin's P.O.V? 
> 
> Any theories on future chapters? I would like to hear them, I love those type of discussions :D.


	12. Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Send all checks to Relationship Consultant Baggins in the form of blueberry pie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say. Erm 'cept that Arc 2 is almost over, two more chapters. And honestly I can believe why it took me so long to get this one up /rolls in a corner/.
> 
> When I said slow burn I meant: It's a long road of ups and downs with hardly any middle ground.
> 
> Last question was answered correctly (Thranduil's bike) so look forward to a new one Chapter 13 for a chance for a backstory one-shot!

**Violet**

 

Bilbo groans and curls up into the soft pliant setting beneath him. A bed, it smelled kind of like moss and bleach but still, he could focus on nothing else with the pounding throb in his head, and the need to keep his eyes tightly sealed. There is the pleasant sound of water running- or rain - that soothes the enzymes in his head.

His knees were sore, and painful down to his ankles, and the jeans he wore just were stiff constricts. Bilbo Baggins you are getting too old for this his mind chimed.

He, eyes still shut, rolls over something; it is irritating his back so he removes the lump. He knew that smooth surface, it was his fathers Swiss Army knife.

And oh the memories came flooding back of the whirlwind yesterday was.

The bathroom door clicks open, and a light is turned on, he covers his face with his arm and croaks "Turn it off, please." Much sharper than he intended.

"Sorry," comes the gruff reply, and the light is shut off again. "We leave in an hour, to get breakfast."

He was not ready to face any of them, and Thorin and he had an argument that was still floating quite close above their heads. He forced himself to open his eyes, and sat up on stiff palms.

"I will take a shower then." A very cold one, no drinking away sorrows was worth this pain. 

"Bilbo." Thorin started, and he was quite close. When did he get so close? And oh hello exposed torso. There the leader was in jeans, but with a towel over his shoulders collecting the water droplets that dripped from his long locks. Bilbo had wondered maybe once or twice in the crevices of his mind what it'd be like to date a hairier man, and now he was pretty sure he’d want to pursue that side of the venture. What with that trail of thin dark curls, firm pectorals, and he has honestly never seen a six-pack outside of the movie theaters. "I would like to talk about last night."

Sounded more like an order, and the man was well spoken for a biker. Very well spoken. He could order Bilbo around for sure.  
(What did Thorin say he did outside of racing again?)

No bad Bilbo. Bad. Listen to the words being said. He reminds himself he is still cross with Thorin.

 

Bilbo looks at his hands and nods for Thorin to continue; knowing he is not ready for anything thrown his way.  
Oh the shame, and he anticipates an accusation.

"I wanted to apologize, for my harsh words-"

"What?" Bilbo blurts looking, up so fast he strains his neck, at the tall man. Thorin’s face was brusque as ever, and he looks like he was hard trying to keep his gaze steady. He did glare at being interrupted and Bilbo muttered a sorry.

"I know you have proven yourself as part of the team, and my words were spoken rashly." The leader rubs a palm over his exposed tattoo on the inner part of his arm. (And that was a story the blond hoped he’d get an answer to sometime.)

 

"So I apologize." Thorin sounds like he is emphasizing the words and Bilbo jolts a little bit. He must've gone in a daze following that single trickle of water from one of the stray locks clinging to his chest.

He has to be still drunk, just a little.

"Right, right. Your apology is accepted.” He chews over his words and loses to the urge to continue. “However, I think you should take care of not treating me like some malicious- virus. I only want to help." The last sentence tapers to near not being said at all, and he started off so confident too. Bilbo stands against his better judgment and his mouth twitches a little –something like a failure of a smile- at Thorin before heading to shower. 

"I will meet you all in the lobby then."

"Ride with me on Orcrist." Thorin says. And his brow furrows in surprise at his own exclamation.

"What?" He stops from closing the bathroom door. Surely that was the hangover creating pure delusions of grandeur? “Wait what is a Orcisht?”

"Orcrist. To the diner, ride with me." Thorin repeats as he reaches for the towel across his shoulders. “In your state you should not drive.” 

The smug look that crosses Bilbo’s face makes him greedy with power.

“That’s the name of your bike?”

“Yes.” Thorin’s face dares him to tease.

“Sounds like an ancient battle hammer.”

“I thought more of a sword.” The biker counters. “Will you?”

“Taking a trip on Orcrist.” He pronounces the words slow and puts a hand on his hip, his face exaggerating consideration. The door hits right at his elbow, he tries to rub the pain away. "Sure."

So what if it was quite easy to forgive a shirtless- just out of the shower- Thorin.

 

\----

This is what it would feel like if they continued like this, delving deeper into the relationship. Gone was that nervous distance from before; instead he dares to rest his head against the firm back, like a dame from a greaser romance novel going on the occasional ride midday despite what society would say. His helmet got in the way of any romantic relaxation between Thorin’s shoulder-blades, and his pounding headache and lack of ability to look at the sun did not assist in the matter, but he enjoys the moment of being taken somewhere without so much as having to worry about it.

 

Every time it gets a little better, they take two steps back.

 

The standard diner comes a little too soon for the ex-baker’s taste. And the team has already overtaken the front spaces of the parking lot, the bikes are looking a little worse for wear, not at all the gleaming specimens like when they had all but destroyed his front yard.

Still impressive beasts, and he wasn’t the only one- it seems- who did not ride solo.

“I suppose Orcrist is an acceptable name.” He pats the bike seat after he hops off.

“You are one to judge, what was the name of yours again?”

He feigns a scoff at the older man. “Myrtle two is respectable, and pleasant and not at all difficult to pronounce.” 

“Come, Burglar.” Thorin walks ahead of him, his hair was pulled back in one of those loose lower wet buns, and the teasing smile on his face did not stop Bilbo’s groan.

He was not going to live a little drinking down. Just like the first time he got high and he declared that ‘his feet were like noodles and he was skating across broth.’

"Hello Burglar." Fili accosts him on one side when they enter the average sized eatery.

"How are you this morning Burglar?" Kili near pushes his uncle out of the way to Bilbo’s other side.

“Why are you looking away like that?"

"Where's your knife?"

He ran to a seat next to Ori in the old fashioned red booths.

Bilbo plops his head against the diner's table and tries to block out the immature badgering that Fili and Kili were barraging him with. A few of the team members start their knife game again.  
Ah, memories.

“Please keep it down.” He tries for a request that is likely to be ignored.

“What’s wrong lad?” Gloin says in a cheeky manner.

“The world is much louder than it needs to be. And a little brighter.” He raises two fingers in a pinching motion to exemplify.

“Drinking is bad Bilbo.” Kili’s hand, Bilbo assumes, reaches over and ruffles his curls.

“Very bad,” Fili adds patting Bilbo on the back when he really didn’t want the comfort. Bilbo turns to his cheek and squints blue eyes at the gold haired youth.

“Oh bugger off, you few should not speak about alcohol consumption.”

"Fili, Kili, pipe down or you will be paying for your own food."

"But Uncle we don't have jobs yet." Kili reminds Thorin by poking the man at his bicep. Thorin gives him an unimpressed look.

"Right you don't care about that detail."

"Can we order? I'm starving." Bombur cuts in.

 

"So what was with the Burglar stuff Bilbo?" Ori asks, his arm is wrapped in a bandage, still sprained, but supposedly doing a bit better than if it were fractured.

"I'd rather not talk about it." Bilbo says his face still down at the surface of the table.

“Just know Bilbo did some badass criminal things apparently. So he said, he might take over my job.” Nori taunts with a twirl of the cheap diner knife. 

They order food. That's all that Bilbo can really describe it, because he still can’t bring himself to care. At least the bike ride was nice. 

Bofur orders a beer. Because it's never too early, apparently.

Though, Bilbo thinks getting three is a little excessive even for the floppy hat wearer. In fact Bifur elbows his cousin sharply and earns a rebuked glare.

“I have never been so happy to see a grease drenched burger.” Bilbo naturally orders half a pound of meat with cheese and the works as a topping. It is average in taste, but satisfies his growling stomach and eases the pain from his torso to the top of his head.

He had inhaled that slab of meat like it was the last he would get. The heartburn was ravaging however.

The ride after brunch was even more soothing an enjoyable once Bilbo could open his eyes and ignore the cat calls of others.

Riding Orcrist was something he could get used to.

Apparently the team was expecting a call from Gandalf regarding paying for new supplies for medicines and the like due to ‘higher stakes’.

That equated to goofing off in various rooms. Or what Fili and Kili call room hopping.

Some were talking about going for a ride and Bilbo voiced he wouldn't mind joining.

\----

 

In the end he ends up hungry again after a measly half an hour so he takes a trip to the motel convenience store. (Though he is not trying any dairy products from there because the dark barely lit up little shop has a fermented smell.) It was a quest really, for it took him fifteen minutes of being laughed at –internally- by Thorin while he dumps out his bag in a desperate search for his wallet. Turns out the blasted man had it from the night before when Bilbo was drunk.

And he watched him struggle too. Evil bastard.

He runs straight into Dwalin as he is leaving.

The man who carried him last night.

Who always kind of thought Bilbo was a little special.

And also thought Ori and Bilbo had something, for a moment.

"Excuse me, sorry about that." The words leave his mouth in a furious fashion, and he is already flustered.

"I was looking for you." Dwalin says in his usual gruff manner.

"Oh really? Does Thorin need me? I’ll just go-" That doesn’t make any sense but his ‘flight’ signals were up and running.

"No." And there was that tone.

"Then who needs me?"

Now Dwalin stalled a bit in response. "I needed to speak with you." The man crosses his massive tattooed arms.

"Oh um that's fine. Why don't we go, outside then?" Both eyebrows rise and he claps his hands together. “Ah do you mind if we stop in the shop first?” Dwalin rolls his eyes.

Bilbo deserves that, for it took him ten minutes to find something suitable for his current snack craving.

And in the parking lot Bilbo stood on one side with a pack of lemon cookies and Dwalin a few feet away with his arms still crossed.

He twiddles his fingers against his pants leg.

"What is it you needed of me?"

"You and Ori talk a lot right?"

"Well yes of books usually." 

"And what types of books do you talk about?"

Now he’s caught on. "He does rather enjoy contemporary novels, but he prefers the Modernism genre much more. However shouldn't you be asking him yourself?" 

"No. I can't" Dwalin blurts and Bilbo notes it's less ferocious and more of anxious.

"And why not?" He has one eyebrow raised and his mouth set in a disapproving curve. “It’s not Dori and Nori is it? Because I mean-“

"I have to apologize to him with something before I can."

"What? Back track a little bit.”

"He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Dwalin looked genuinely surprised. He clears his throat and stuffs his large inked hands in his pockets.

"What did you do?"

" _We_ are taking a break.”

"Wait what?!" Ori never mentioned that at all. He had a feeling it was something Ori had agreed to, but didn’t really want to acknowledge. “But you’ve only been on two dates!”

"One.”

“One? Ori told me you had planned two dates.”

“Planned. I couldn’t show up to the second, had work.” The defensive rise in Dwalin’s tone had Bilbo’s suspicions on alert.

“Work. Hmm.” Bilbo made a little disbelieving sound and he shook his head slow at the bigger figure.

The glare he received in return only cowed him a tinge.

“Yes. Work.” The bald man grit out.

“You stood him up didn’t you? And just made that excuse!”

Dwalin looks away, his big piercing glints in the low sunlight.

“It was not my intention to hurt him, but this is bigger than a short experiment. We are a metal pavilion with rusty support beams, and if one thing hits it wrong we can fall apart.” The large man growls frustrated, and Bilbo is seeing more than the flat character for the first time. His romance novel just got so much more complex. “I don’t have to explain it to you.” 

It did take him a minute to understand the metaphor referred to the entire team. He tried not to let that show, he’s an English major – or was- he should know symbolism.

Bilbo throws up his hands. Someone save him from the stubbornness of the Erebor Riders.

"Um. Mister Dwalin I'm going to suggest something and please don't gut me for it." Bilbo takes in a deep breath. "Why don't you just talk to him about this stuff? I know you see him as a kid, but maybe you should respect him too and talk to him about it. He seems to be very understanding for being stood up." Bilbo scolds.

Dwalin sets his mouth in a frown. "I will- consider it. Thanks, for the book stuff.” He stalks away, leaving without a goodbye. 

Bilbo huffs, how rude. Of course he didn’t know anything, that’s why they all kept asking him questions and for his opinion. Just to hear him talk. A couple minutes later he just lets it out. "Fine, I really don’t think I’m cut out for this. I should send them all a bill though, for using my mediocre advising talents.”

Two Durin Line bikes roll in. Nori on his poisonous plum bike and Bofur on that brown motorcycle. 

Bofur stumbles off his bike and curses.

"You can't blame me." Nori gets off his ride, arms held out in nonchalance.

"I can never blame you apparently," His best friend spits back.

Bilbo should not be here for this. He would be better off making himself very small behind that bush that smells like dead things. 

"You really think you are not at fault? We got kicked out because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself."

What are they even fighting about?

"Well-yeah. I don’t see why it should bother you, it’s nothing that hasn’t happened to us before."

"What the hell!"

"Oh go take a piss Bofur you're drunk." Nori’s joke is opposite of his miffed expression.

Bofur clenches his fist. "No m'not."

"You've been drinking all day, you should lay off a bit."

"I can't."

"Yeah, really now, so you’re just going back to Jack in the morning because it’s a little phase?"

"Well it’s the only thing that helps me stand-" Bofur cuts off his yell with the click of his jaw and he moves away from his friend. When he sees Bilbo, stilted like a squirrel, he claps the shorter man on the back.

He did smell like a lingering hint of liquor.

"Bilbo needs help packing." There’s a plead in the glossed over brown eyes. And so the blond let himself be led away with a very confused expression.

“Well fuck you too.” Nori’s curse is barely heard once they are far enough, but Bofur stills in his grip on Bilbo’s arm.

“I suppose I could need some help.” He fumbles with the room key, and is greeted with an empty space- much to his disappointment. His stuff is strewn everywhere on his bed from his search earlier.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks quietly, peering up at his much taller friend. Bofur shakes his head and starts folding.

“Used to do this with Bombur, when we’d get mad at the world and want to run away. I still do it, when I can’t handle it anymore.” Bofur says, words slurred like a drunken poet, after about a minute of neatly folding one of Bilbo’s spare button ups.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he’s waiting for you to say something.” Bilbo starts folding a pair of rather abused jeans, anticipating a chance to go to a dry cleaners at least. If he could figure out how those work.

“I did tell him.” Bilbo hears a sniff, and sees Bofur wipe a dirty leather sleeve to his face.

“Oh-“ There goes that noble confidence boosting argument that was preparing itself in Bilbo’s brain.

“Yeah. He didn’t believe me. Said I was screwin’ with him.”

“When?”

“That night he fought with Dori. I had a few drinks, and then just said it. Right in front of Gloin, and Dwalin, and all. And you know they laughed, they all did. Jokin’ about it’s been about time. And how they thought we already tried that. Might as well had come out and said we were a terrible match.” Bofur keeps going. “Just because I was a little buzzed didn’t mean I was full of shit and horny.”

Bilbo cringes. “Ah.”

“Say one thing, and no one believes yah. Buncha iron headed lugs who make fun of yah for sharin’ yer feelins’” The next cloth that was folded was not handled with as much care as Bilbo would have liked. 

“It’s because you all keep it inside too much. I’ve read once if you bottle in so much, you don’t know what’s right anymore.” He drops his Swiss Army knife, and bends to pick it up. Bofur doesn’t answer and Bilbo thinks to give him time.

 

"Oi, what's this?" Bofur says, and Bilbo turns around to ask what he is talking about when the words lodge themselves in his windpipe. The brunette was pulling out the gold flag from the pile strewn on Bilbo's bed, and Bilbo watched with a dry mouth as realization set on the normally untroubled face.

Bofurheld the flag spread out between two shaking hands, with his hair loose in waves over his shoulder, and black jacket sleeves rolled up. That obvious piece of fabric with intricate weaving and glittering red thread like little ticks of blood. 

"This is a gold flag." The rider’s wrecked voice is barely above a whisper.

Bilbo averts his eyes, what does he say? He can't say he didn't know, because at one point maybe he didn't, but now-

"You had a gold flag and you didn't tell us?" Bofur was looking at him, he was sure of it, but the Stealth could only look at the ugly carpet and chew on his bottom lip. He nods jerkily.

"Why?"

The blond didn't answer.

"We have had people on our asses more than usual for this. Bombur got hurt, Ori, for this thing. More people will, you could have gotten more than a couple broken bones if anyone knew you had it." There was anger in the brown-eyed man's voice, and it was rising. "Bilbo why didn't you say anything?"

"I- I don't know." He let out the words. He hears Bofur move, and he thought the man would walk over, and say he understood, but instead the door opens.

"No you were right earlier Bilbo, we keep too many secrets around here." Bofur says, his voice quiet. The door clicks, and it would have been better if it were slammed.

And Bilbo was considering all the ways he could run, while he stood there alone in the motel room. The weight on his shoulders was a thousand stones. He fucked up. 

He is too much of a coward to go out there, and hear what they would surely say.

It didn't take long for him to sit on the ground and draw his knees up to his chest. But it took a long time for him to realize they were not coming to get him, to haul him up and put him on a stake. 

There is a strange vibrating sound coming from his bed. He struggles to remember it’s his phone, and makes his way towards the device.

"Hello?"

"Bilbo, how have you been? I've been meaning to check in on you." Gandalf says in a jovial enough tone.

"'Lo Gandalf, I've been. Fine." He struggles with the words and the old man paused before he spoke.

"What is the issue my friend?"

"The flag." He knew he wouldn't have to explain it to Gandalf. He knew the sponsor was aware. From that distant time ago where he had taken care of Bilbo at the Rivendell Inn. He starts to tug at a lock of his curls.

"I suppose they found out. And what have they said?"

"Nothing-" 

"Mmm. Well maybe it will do for you to explain yourself. Even if it is not what you want to say, and it makes you sound guilty, you have to answer a few things too Bilbo."

He nods as if Gandalf could see him.

"Now- In reference to that key I saw you with." Gandalf continues, and Bilbo would hate to hear exactly what he's done wrong next. "That, you should keep to yourself whatever you do. And make amends quick because you have quite the bounty on your head."

"I-I what?"

"Yes unfortunately. Apparently a contact at a bar a couple nights ago saw your face, and that was also the same night the Spyder’s tires were slashed. So now I've found out the Gundabad Orcs are having it declared that it’s you who is going around committing crimes of theft and trickery. Be careful, and keep whatever allies you make close. I must go now, I will contact you again in concerns of your Vespa. Good luck."

And the old man hangs up, leaving Bilbo with nothing but the dial tone. Loneliness crept up upon him like an isolated virus strain. 

He buries his head in his folded arms.

He was just trying to help. Now he’s not only made a right mess by becoming a target, but he has to deal with it all on his own.

Just the smallest most childish part of him, not a Baggins, not a Took, only Bilbo said 'don't leave me alone again.'

For so often, he was left alone.

Bilbo has an anxiety, a weakness, it started years before his parents death, plagued him all through college, and then had to be hastily shoved in a corner when the accident happened.

Back then his house was so big, quiet, empty. Right now this room is so small, stale and still.

Racing was an outlet to displace the awkwardness. It was an adrenaline rush, a way to socialize, to do something and be good at it. Racing led him to trophies, to thrill, now to friends.

But he didn’t like who he became when he stepped outside the front door. He didn’t change at all, just got bad at keeping it locked up.

When his nerves would get to him, his mother used to always know, and she would pet his hair and hum a soothing tune. His father would need more clues, but when he saw he would bake Bilbo his favorite pie- crisped and filled with the right purpling blueberries.

What he’d do to crush some fresh spare blueberries in his palm and watch the violet-blue liquid leak from beneath his fingers and then lick the liquid as he did when he was a messy young one.

His nails tear low welts in his palms.

Was he an extrovert who had introvert tendencies? Or an introvert pretending to be otherwise?

He shakes his head, and rubs his hand over his face.

Standing up he sucks in a breath, and grabs everything into the brown sack, ready that if he has to leave, he will hitchhike his way, or walk back. Or maybe he could ask 'Archer' for help until he reached Beorn's.

Maybe he could ask Gandalf for a ride.

He came across the bronze key, and ran a finger over the ridges. One more secret; he stuck it in his pocket like he used to. Before he got too comfortable.

He leaves the dark room into the bright fluorescent hallway. There were no loud voices wafting from the lobby. Maybe they weren't out there.

Maybe they had left him.

But no Thorin's stuff was still neat and packed in their shared room.

He ambles down the hall slow, almost daring himself to knock on each room's door when he hears Gloin's voice. The red head always spoke in high volumes when on the phone, and he seems to be talking with Gandalf about funds. And about a race.

Bilbo never knew they could be so quiet, and then of course he hid just at the edge of the corner, not caring if the onion smelling man who shuffles by gives him an odd look. He just needs the right opportunity to show himself.

"Woodlanders want to arrange a race. Today," Gloin says.

"Today?" Oin repeats.

"Good, we have been restless for far too long." Thorin cuts off.

From the shuffling and murmuring, they were all out there. It was a twisting scabbard in his gut, that they all sat out there discussing things without so much as talking to him, or asking where he was.

He presses his back against the wall. Telling himself this was a bad idea. Could it be possible Bofur didn’t tell anyone?

"Yeah, they want it in twenty minutes." 

‘Don’t leave me.’ He pleads in his mind.

"Those dicks, they're trying to catch us off guard." Nori mutters.

"What type of race?" Balin says.

"Team for Team, relay." 

"Fine. Tell Gandalf we will accept it." Thorin finalizes.

Bilbo strains to hear the tapping on the keyboard.

“Don’t we need fourteen?” Kili whispers in that loud manner he always did.

"We need to head out now." Dwalin said.

"What about Bilbo?" Ori, bless his soul, asks.

"We will deal with it when we get back." Thorin’s voice is flat- it sounds just like the night before. One step forward, two steps back. Bilbo hears them get up- They wouldn’t leave him would they?

"Bifur!" Bofur calls. "We're leavin'"

And the door Bilbo was closest to opens. He freezes, and hazel eyes consider him. They stare at each other, and Bilbo looks away trying hard not to just blurt out. His hands shake, Bifur could alert them.

Fingers brush the gentlest touch to his bowed head, and the mute lumbers away with a grunt. He must look like such a weakling child, shaking and begging with wide glossy eyes that look nowhere but the floor.

"What took yah so long?" 

The sound of collective engines being started made him a distant figure watching from the inside.

What hurts more? Being comforted and pitied, or being left behind and iced out?

Bilbo is a coward and believes in the first, because that may have been what he wanted but it may have also been the last time a grown man like himself would ever receive care reminiscent of a mother.

 

He sits himself back in the motel room. Feeling listless and anxious, how long could the race last? This is the first one he's not been in since the start. Is that a sign that he's no longer racing?

Were they always so ready to just drop him? He was the Chess club outlier adopted by the cool kids, it would make sense in every universe.

Can they tell he’s still a needy child inside? 

He feels short of breath and his eyes squeeze shut too tight.

Forty-three minutes pass.

He's hungry so he goes to the motel convenience store again and gets three chocolate bars. 

A hundred and twenty more minutes are gone. He’s eaten most of the sweet basic chocolate. Melting it slowly on his tongue so time passes by faster than it gets down his throat.

Maybe he was meant to be lonely. 

His cell-phone sputters a short vibration. It must be dying, he checks the screen, and it is, but there is also a text message.

It's from Gandalf.

_-Your team may need your assistance. They are unable to contact you, and I warned them about going in blind. Use your connections to get them out of the hole they've dug please._  
And brace yourself, they did not ask for this either.  
Go to the Mirkwood tunnel.  
\- 

Bilbo would be lying if his mouth didn't drop open at the message.

What could possibly- 

He pulls on his jacket, grabs the keys to Myrtle 2, pulls on Bifur’s goggles, and sets on his white helmet. Sucking in a long breath for the first time in hours, he leaves the dark cage of a space.

No matter- even if they don't like him, even if they don’t want him, he owes them this. And he will gain their trust back, they were worth that much.

He just didn’t know if he could give them what they deserved.

He’s never been good with people. He never trusted them, the team, for some reason he didn’t allow himself to, and now look where he was.

Something squished in his palm. A chocolate square he had taken out, the last one in his nervous bout of consumption. He licks it off clean, forgetting himself, and his exposure out in public, and wipes the residue on his dark jeans. The engine is kicked on, he switches gears.

None of the chocolate in his hand tasted like blueberries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I think Bilbo has had this coming for a long time. I contemplated the team being like 'Yey gold flag' (Because it really really hurts that since Bilbo is being left out, there are so many gaps that will not be filled until much later because the POV follows him). Then I remembered Bilbo's little ticks he's been having throughout the story, and I think he's starting to remember his social anxieties as well. The more of a roller coaster it becomes the worst it gets till he faces it.
> 
> /Speculative moment over/
> 
> There are so many (like three) song lyrics hidden in here I just don't even know what I was doing. 
> 
> So the Red Drakes are gonna appear soon isn't that fun?  
> 'Cause I just love Bilbo so much. 
> 
> But next time you (and Bilbo) find out exactly what the hell happened at the race. It's complicated.
> 
> Oh and I totally have thoughts on a random coupling that's going to show up outside of the group and someoneshootmecausewthArcherBoyfriendsisthatwhatthey'recalledsaywhat?. I mean. Yeah.


	13. Pumpkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawl, and crawl some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I will definitely go through and edit again when I can, but for now it has a rough edit going through please forgive any mistakes. It is late and it's been a rough road to try and get this to you guys.  
> Besides that, one chapter before the end of Arc 2 and it is a rather turbulent chapter at that. However due to school I will not be able to post any updates until sometimes next week.  
> Only things I will be posting are a short on Fili and Kili by request, and a possible AU one shot that I've been working on.
> 
> Once again thank you for the feedback! I love you guys, and for those who have commented I will take the chance to respond back in the morning :D. Enjoy~

**Pumpkin**

If Bilbo were to look at his body now, he is sure he wouldn't recognize it. There would still be his little belly that is a result of failed usage of gym memberships( Due to the intimidating fact that the most muscular men occupy the weights at all times.), and his birthmark on his hip, but besides that there would be scars, little nicks and thick red lines, browned bruises and purple fresh welts. His hands would be rough and calloused, feet looking a bit abused, skin darkened under the sun.

He would look at himself and see his face, the same but maybe with another age line, his curls a wild amber mess. His eyes an open clear blue, maybe a dabble of grey depending on his surroundings. Too critical and unsatisfied.

He would say to himself: "Bilbo you've changed."

 

And he doesn't know if it is for the better.

_Is he better?_

Bilbo is on the confusing streets of Mirkwood City searching for an old tunnel but there are so many to choose from. He wanders on his bike, burning the gas away for at least an hour through the roundabout turns and rectangular mazes of one ways and then major roads. Steel and grey, the city was a menace at night with dark blues and dull lights. 

Myrtle 2 was holding out pretty well for the abuse she has gone through. 

Everything's different at this exact moment, he can't explain it but no matter what happens it's all been changed by something that he can only blame upon is himself. If he ends up alone after this, well it's his own fault.

He pushes the handles even further trying to urge the gas around the city at a careful speed, hoping he's not one who would be recognized much. 

It takes longer that he would have liked for him to reach Mirkwood tunnel, and there was nothing but the long half cylindrical space. Nothing. What was he supposed to be looking for?

He puts the bike to a stop and curses checking his cell phone for that text message. And it is dead. Bilbo lets out a scream of frustration. How far was he to go to find them? How far would he take just to get them out of the hands of the other team, if that's where they were.

How could thirteen men not save themselves? Was there something more not mentioned, and did they call for help from Gandalf?

They must have, or else the elder would not have known. And that hurts, it stops him from kicking back into gear- just to contain the heavy beating of his heart and the piling up sting that wants to escape from his small body.

A short breath later he kicks in gear and keeps going, through the dark lighting of the tunnel, and the wet smells of stone and strangely- dirt. 

 

He has gone through the tunnel and there is nothing, he goes back again, and thinks he must have gotten something wrong for Gandalf said this tunnel specifically and he was not fond of the smell nor the dark. Go to the tunnel Gandalf says, and yet there is nothing but road, a couple of surrounding buildings, and the city.

He has to regroup his thoughts so Bilbo pulls over at the exit mouth of the tunnel and leans his bike against the railing of the apparent pedestrian sidewalk within the speedway.

He walks along the walls careful to stay in the shadows the best he could. If anything he tries to remind himself to think like a combination of Nori and James Bond- because he still needs a bit of gentlemanly class.

Bilbo fixes the cuffs of his leather jacket to get in the moment. He was James Bond on an investigative track, he has no Walther PPK but he does have aSswiss army knife he can’t open, and two degrees in English as well as a double minor in philosophy and sociology.

Why didn’t he minor in something practical like accounting?

He walks slow and light on his feet, surprising for such heavy boots but he always had a knack for that. As he continues on the sidewalk keeping close to the tall walls of the tunnel, he reminds himself of his strengths. There is a low whistle of the wind that funnels through the area and the tracks above creak meaning no subway train for now. His hand grazes the walls and they are sticky. Wet unwelcoming in a way as the sopping liquid squishes against his palm. He should have brought his gloves.

A few headlights begin to appear from the far side of the tunnel, and his startled animal mode is on alert. He ducks into the side of the closest crevice for engines that never pass by, but instead turn somewhere unknown.

But they were just at the start of the tunnel where could they have gone? There was no way around. Then it clicks like a puzzle just twisting around and solving itself.

He withholds a ‘whoop’ which threatens to undo all he has just done. He checks both ways before running across the six lanes, he glides his hands over the dark surface searching for one of the doors that often frequent train tunnels, too bad that he was not truly Bond. He needs a more built stature he supposes.

Finally his hand dips into a doorway.

 

By some sort of depressing miracle he finds a door. It was broken, the knob a little rusted and can lead nowhere good. But it was that or nowhere at all, he just hoped he would not be entering unannounced, and right in the midst of a meeting room, or worse a bathroom. That would be a strange story to tell.

The door pushes open with the rustiest creak and he is stepping down a small staircase.

He’s in a dark enough hallway where his dead cell phone would be better light, he has nothing. No little flashlight for late night traveling, and no technological advances to push him forward. 

Just the soft eerie sounds of his own breathing, and the occasion drips through a piping system. He hugs the wall with his dirtied palms and pushes himself forward as his knees shake. His hearing is on hypersensitive levels and he once again longs for a warm bed instead hallways with echoes of footsteps.

Footsteps, above him. They pat pat pat as if following his every move, but there are several and they are lighter than most adults would care to display, and it is above him- he reminds himself. He hears the sloshing sounds of a sewage system, the smell was ripened enough in the air for it.

Perhaps this was a pathway even the woodlanders didn't know about, a tunnel system a way to render himself invisible.

 

\----

They've been in this warehouse for hours. It was fucking annoying. They are stuffed in a dank, dark room like sardines. And the tension amongst the group, it was awkward and there was no way around it. Hardly anyone was speaking to one another, in Nori's opinion it's the worst it's ever been in years. Like they have too many things they knew would get out eventually.

They fucking lost the race. No surprise, it was an all- in relay, and Ori is still injured, his maneuvers weren’t enough versus a team of healthy rivals who had more than enough racers to spare.

And they didn’t have their spare.

He leans against one of the furthest walls and busies himself with knocking his knuckles against the stone in an even beat. He was switching between mimicking Britney Spears in blend with _Kashmir_. It was working out decently enough to distract him from the sullen dispositions of self- pity.

He pities himself too, they lost a relay to the Woodlanders, fair and square, because they have their panties in a bunch about a gold flag. They were just lucky their gold flag wasn't with them, or else they'd be even more screwed. What sucks is those Woodlanders are sadistic little bastards, they like to watch them squirm as the days pass by, they left the bike keys with the Erebor Riders but separated them from their bikes, and might even be taking the stuff apart.

The only hope they have of leaving is if Gandalf saves their asses or if Bilbo somehow knows.

That bugger. Nori was pissed at him, he kind of respected the small man's gall to be secretive as if he has rights to it, but why didn’t he tell them? Weren’t they all friends. They let him into their families, and told him things most outsiders would not care for-

"Stop that." Someone says and Nori just barely picks up the words. 

"You're right _Kashmir_ doesn't go with _Toxic_ , _Dr. Feelgood_ is better.” He starts up again totally off tune.

"Nori, stop it." Oh that's Bofur.

"Make me."He teases forgetting that they weren't much for talking at the moment. So when a hand reaches out and stills his right fist in a grip he finds himself holding back the urge to toss the brunette away in the dark. "You can't stop me from entertaining our sorry asses."

"We don't need that kind of entertainment we need a plan." Gloin grumbles from his sulky corner, a tamed fiery kitten by this point.

"Dun' feel like it. What's the point?" He shrugs, and feels a pinch from Dori no doubt. “Hey, the fuck, I’m only saying the truth. We. Lost. We are shit right now, time to start thinking of other prospects.”

“What a great vote of confidence.” Bofur growls in a sarcastic tone. “Yeh always gave up early before we could even get started.” The spit of words has its obvious double meaning and Nori is having none of this shit.

“Then go on then, give us a plan mighty Bofur. Got a secret key under that hat of yours?” He gets no answer in return and that does not satisfy him like he’d like.

“Can’t you pick the lock?” And their grumpy leader has spoken.

“Sorry _my king_ but I’ve tried and it’s nice and sealed.”

“Isn’t this illegal?” Ori says. Near him is a scratching sound, like Bifur is at carving again.

“That’s great, it’d work if this wasn’t an anything goes illegal track.” Nori’s defense rises for his brother when Oin says that.

“I’m sorry,” The lad sounds miserable, because it was him who lagged behind that friggen spitfire Tauriel. Any other day Ori would’ve given her more of a run.

“Not your fault Ori, we just weren’t good enough.” 

“That’s a lie.” Dwalin counters.

“No, it’s not. Never go in outnumbered without a plan, that’s common sense. Shit no wonder we lose so often now.”

“Where’s your faith in us?”

Nori scoffs at Gloin. 

“That’s askin’ for too much from you isn’t it?” Nori was ready to punch Bofur, his ‘bestfriend’ has been a dick since before he discovered the flag, and he’s just gotten worse.

“Once again I’m just saying the truth.” He shoots back. They all settle into an uncomfortable silence.

“Thranduil wants us to forfeit and then he would let us go.” Balin states after a few minutes, and the middle Rieve rolls his eyes knowing they can hardly see him in the dim room.

“We are not giving in to their kind.” Thorin looks ups from under a sheet of dark locks.

“But Thorin we still have the gold flag, we can-“

“No. I will not give those traitors the satisfaction of our words, even if they are just a bluff. They made false promises once.” The leader says. “We should trust nothing they say.”

“We don’t trust anyone. That’s how we are here now isn’t it?” Bombur speaks up, must be hungry or something for him to break his eternal silence in Nori’s opinion.

“We just lost a race, that’s not why-“ Kili tries from his huddled position, shoulder to shoulder with his brother, both looking young and defiant as any Durin would.

“Yes it is, we don’t trust anyone, and Bilbo didn’t trust us and now we are short a racer and Gandalf is not savin’ us.” Fili cuts off the optimistic words of his brother.

“What Baggins did was not our fault.” The long haired leader’s expression twists, and Nori knows how to recognize hurt on even the most strong of masks. He lives with Dori for god’s sake.

“Jeeze if Frerin could see this, “ Nori to the rescue again, blondie better be grateful.

But instead it sparked something ugly in them all, he could feel it in his gut.   
Thorin growls from deep within his throat, something feral that’s supposed to intimidate the criminal.

“Sorry, said the taboo name didn’t I? Frerin? Right? Was starting to forget what with all the times we spend talking about him.” He lets the cynicism roll off his tongue in a gloating manner.

“Nori let it go.” Dori whispers in his ear.

“No, honestly he died in a race doing a foolhardy move. We all know the consequences of those types of races. We got cocky and we lost, and we continue to lose. I will at least admit my fucking faults, but you gotta too. Frerin died, by his own choice.”

“You think he would have chosen to die?” Thorin is standing his full height, and his fists are clenched in a way that Nori wishes he would try. Bofur is looking stiff and Nori’s green eyes keep darting to his friend, daring him to jump up too. He dares them all to, it could be fun being the enemy- couldn’t it?

“No not as much as I think we would have chosen to get our shop closed down.” He can be clever with his words if he chooses.

“If you’re so mighty then why do you keep comin’ back?”

“Why do any of us keep coming back?” Dori chimes in, “Because it’s all we know by this point.”

“We’re a buncha simple riders from some glory days then?” Balin stating that is like stabbing a wound with alcohol laced pins. Even Nori has to think otherwise.

\---

“Burglar, here to save your friends.” Archer whispers and Bilbo squeals swearing he’s going to faint at that moment. “Their bikes, are in the room three doors to the left, they are two doors from that. Stay quiet and you may succeed.”

“Why?” He tries to ask, he’s been caught, and he could be turned in, but the tall man is already walking away talking to some people who were passing by in the hallway.

Bilbo knows a debt owed when he sees one- but now it is not important for his friends, if they allow him to still call them that, are locked away from their bikes. 

 

They need to go unnoticed, which means they will have to roll their bikes carefully- somewhere a little noisy. 

The blond thinks he has a plan, he knows he does but cooperation is what he needs.

A few steps later he’s in another clone hallway and if it weren’t for the biker in the single chair with a bottle lying empty next to it he’d curse to himself.

He watches with keen eyes as one of the 'watch' guards continues to drink from his cup, what luck he brunette seems to already be slowing in movements, and hopefully soon will grow tired.

Bilbo was in his cramped hiding spot curled up and thankful for once he was so small.

The guard passes out head tilted back in his chair and Bilbo creeps an alert woodland creature until his fingers grasp around the thin metal keyring.

What a charming little pug keychain.  
\----

Nori would like to say that the yelling escalated quickly, but no it’s been a long time coming. They were a dispirited bunch, and he was a devil’s advocate when he was irritated. And he is on an edge- a teetering high edge that threatens to topple any way. Either they get out of this and forfeit and he rides away for a good six months or they murder each other right here and now.

Ori is in a corner silent with Bofur , Bombur, and the two Durin brothers while the rest of them fought on honor, high spirits, and still danced around the topic of the dead guy. Oh and Bifur would add in his own mad gestures but those hardly made sense when Nori couldn’t be bothered to do anything but defend himself.

“You should have more respect.” Dwalin is close to Nori’s face looking down at him all growly from his high pedestal.

“For what, you? Or Frerin who you guys can’t even respect enough to just damn talk about. I’m here because I want to be, not because Thorin Durin ordered me to get my ass on a bike.”

“You’re askin’ for a fight.”

“Maybe I am, hit me, get it all out now, start with me as a punching bag and then keep going until we’re all bloody masses.” Someone has to be the insensitive martyr, someone has to say it and get them all on one accord of dislike.

Bilbo wasn’t enough for that, he was an outsider he could just get shunned, kicked out, after this Circuit the cynic in Nori knows the small man will be left behind and they would not seek him out again. But someone has to say it.

“Won’t change the fact that we’re not what we used to be, and what we keep tryin’ to be. We are relying on a gold flag rather than collecting them, it’s a curse on us now. What do you want from me?”

“To care a little.” Bofur says.

“Pfft. Nah.”

“But you do. You pretend not to, we all pretend that it doesn’t bother us, how low we’ve gotten, but we are not strong enough. I don’t blame Bilbo you know. “ Bombur’s so quiet he almost does not succeed in commanding the room. But standing with all his girth he draws more than one set of eyes, ending all the individual arguments that are going on. “If I had a gold flag, I think, and I did not have a jacket, or a bike to call my own, I wouldn’t know how to tell you guys. I would not feel like I belong.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” The bald man snaps.

“No, but we shouldn’t be tearing at each other’s throats either. I don’t think Frerin would be happy to find we are trying to get revenge in his name for this.” Bofur is backing his brother, but he is staring right at Nori with such an intense look, the red head tries his best to avoid it. He’s not fond of being so transparent. “We need to think of ourselves, for a little bit.”

“What do we want for ourselves? I want to have a beer in our old warehouse again. I want to stop travelin’ so much, and pretendin’ that I’m not tired.” Bofur continues though the last part is barely caught and Nori wants to say he didn’t catch it at all, but he did. “I want you to take me seriously, if we win or if we lose.”

The copper haired biker turns his head away sharply. There’s a strange scratching sound from the door, and they all cut their voices prepared for the Woodlanders to come in with some kind of taunting message, another offer of distasteful foods.

Barely a light comes from the dark hall and a curly head pops in, a most unexpected face.

And boreder line unwelcomed at the current moment.

 

\---

 

"You want us to what?"

Bilbo keeps from rolling his eyes in exasperation (He did not knock out that guard with that empty bottle and drag him in one of the extraneous rooms for this. Oh how he hopes the man is ok.) and he looks at every face around the room, he has stepped into a landmine he knows just from the tense corners of their mouths and the hard lines around their eyes, he wrings his hands together and begins to explain again.

"Roll your bikes through the sewage, yes. It's very very shallow, and it may be disgusting but what other choice do you have? Tell me do you have any other ideas to continue the race, locked in here?" Bilbo crosses his arms in front of his chest, and taps his foot. They don't have much time to dally, and he has half a mind to leave them here.

Balin nods to Thorin and the leader doesn’t look at Bilbo no matter how much the blond’s mind pleads him to.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m not a pack mule.” He mumbles under his breath though it is louder than he intends and the response he receives has him clenching his fists.

“The way we see it you still owe us anyways.” Dwalin is back to hating him again huh?

“Lead.” There is a warning in the voice this time.

It hurts so much. He has them trudging along quiet to the secret passage he found, back to his entrance through the tunnel.

He first leads them to their bikes, Bombur needs a little assistance un-sticking his big orange cruiser but all is in order in a matter or minutes. They would have to now move one by one in the hall.

They all seem a little brighter when by their collection of motorcycles which were shoved in this back room carelessly. The vehicles look like they could use help.

“We make for the motel, get our stuff then the nearest gas station to Lake Town.” Balin relays as they all put their machines in a neutral gear for pushing. The bikes flop and plop through the nasty dark liquid of the pungent pathway. A hazy white fog hangs thick as a claustrophobic blanket around them.

There was no decrease in grumbles as they move. Bilbo has to commend himself, it has to be his sudden MI6 skills that have presented him with a way to get them out of here, with the help of ‘Archer’ of course. Even if he has not gotten a single thanks for it.

He is a terrible diplomat, and has a weak constitution when it comes to torture.

Bilbo has never been so thankful for the fresh air of the tunnel, they almost get caught by some passing bike but when that initial worry is gone Bilbo is able to scurry to his parked Myrtle 2 even with heavy wet calves. He is just straddling his bike when he hears the other’s engines start.

Only Ori stays back, and he does not do much but smile a bit. The younger must see the expression Bilbo knew crossed his face.

“I screwed up didn’t I?”

“Everyone does.” Is all the brunette says. And Bilbo dwells on it so long the next movements are a blur, he hardly even notices the gunk smell of trash that has permeated on his jeans.

It is a great symbol for his guilt.

And it is a long trip to the motel, even longer to the gas station. Nothing but a blur, a glacier has encased him in the silence that the group seems to have.

At the empty cheap looking fuel station Bofur and Nori are talking in low voices. Their heads bent close, and Bilbo would feel happy if he didn’t also feel left out of that story.

He wants a candy bar. So while Myrtle 2 has been filled and the others take their turns he goes inside of the small establishment with the teenager working the register. She’s popping her purple bubblegum rather obnoxiously.

He hears some engines but pays no heed, so long as they don’t leave him that is. But nope he finds Thorin in there as well, getting something like a water bottle maybe.

Bilbo craves a good cigarette and he may get one. It’s been a couple years, however.

The door dings open and out of curiosity alone he has the natural reaction to turn towards the entrance.

 

The man who walks in has a dark red leather jacket and black gloves, his dark hair is cut down in all sides except the top, he is surprisingly slender and has blue eyes as sharp as his cheekbones.

"The Erebor Riders have made it this far." His voice is chilly and sharp like a stinging crash of waves.

"You should not be so surprised Smaug. We will always return, without stooping down to the likes of you." Bilbo is surprised how close Thorin is now, who is this Smaug?

Deductive skills say the red jacket may be related to something dangerous.

Bilbo watches the silent exchange that follows with wide eyes, feeling rather awkward between two tall elegant figures that were opposite from each other.

"This is your Stealth." Smaug’s eyes dart down to Bilbo in an insulting exaggerated way.

An arm surprises the smaller blond when it pulls him closer. Was this forgiveness? Or was Bilbo just the better option for the moment, they’d rather keep him than lose him to the competition over all. He looks up at Thorin with eyebrows pushed together and lips still sealed shut.

"Come on Mister Baggins." Thorin says in a low voice and he pulls them to the other side of the small gas station without much of a glance to the other. The grip on the smaller man’s elbow is painful enough to bruise.

Bilbo swore he heard the murmur of his name as they were leaving and he did not like how it was said. Like it was some sort of weapon to be used.

He does not like the other man knew his name. And he never got a chance to pay for his candy bar.

“It’s all going to hell isn’t it?” He mumbles to himself as he fastens the straps of his helmet under his chin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, it's a bit of a rising action. This is not the last of the Woodlanders, not by far, and it's really just the last moment that the Erebor Riders get before it just hits the final stretch where a shit ton of parties are involved. It'll be fun.  
> So I was thinking about doing about three fanfic trades to celebrate Arc 3 and also the beginning of the summer semester.
> 
> First come first serve probably, however it won't be open until Chapter 14-15 are up :D So there's time.
> 
>  
> 
> **Bonus question: What do you think is in store for Bilbo in relation to the Red Drakes?**
> 
>  
> 
> Since it will take a while for me to post the next chapter there is plenty of time to guess. Two guesses each :D!


	14. Blood Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If they asked him he'd drive away, but he knows if asked again he'd come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, it's been way too long obviously. Um Remember the quartet from ten chapters ago? Yeah they;re gonna have fun.

**Blood Red**

He’s going to start documenting this period of change in his life by the variation of motels they have inhabited, and how he’s felt about it. It would be a great psychological assessment. 

The only one who would share a room with him voluntarily was Ori (He really blames Thorin for his hostile attitude in that case). He was thankful for that at least, they could still talk, it seems, though Bilbo is too hesitant to say more than 'Do you need the light?' 'Do you want to shower first?'

There was one big bed this time, they remain on their respective sides backs to each other, sometimes reading well into the night. So far they have been in this particular Motel 9 for three days, besides getting the customary fast food meals. It felt unnatural even for Bilbo to remain still in this uninspiring little room.

Well there was one night he heard thumping on the other wall and he asked Ori if he heard it too.

“That, oh that’s Nori and Bofur having sex.” The brunette has so much nonchalance that Bilbo holds his surprise in the back of his throat just ot not be the awkward one.

“Oh,” his voice comes out a little high pitched “Right. My mistake, of course.”

Why oh why did he ask? Hearing the thumping and was that a groan? Or a shout? How long could they go at it? Must be some wild sex or something, he didn’t know Bofur was the type. 

“Stop thinking about it, it will only disturb you more.” Bilbo furrows his brow, so Ori expounds. “Your face keeps changing and I can tell you’re trying to figure it out, Nori’s always been a little loud, he thinks he’s smooth but he’s really not, try being his roommate.” 

“Does make me a little jealous though.” Ori admits. 

Bilbo finds himself humming in agreement, and both of them turn back to their books. The Stealth continues to read the same line over and over again because now his thoughts are on: What type of sex Thorin is in to, no that’s a little raunchy and makes him feel guilty to think about it (amongst other things), sex in a motel doesn’t really turn him on though, maybe at a three star hotel at least, with proper air conditioning and convenient little bars of soap and a decent sized shower for continued frottage. 

 

He’s on the edge of going crazy. His thoughts are consumed by Thorin. Dark hair, blue eyes. Eyes that haven’t looked at him with anything but mistrust lately. Maybe he misses the few kisses they shared, but does Thorin as well? Maybe it's dubious since it's been a little over a month and a half since he's known them all but…still.

He lies on his back on the bed and turns his head to Ori who is tapping away on his phone. Maybe a text message? Maybe to Dwalin?

Those two don’t seem to be talking much lately, and Bilbo almost blames himself for it. No, he knows it’s his fault, must be, since he’s caused trouble for every blossoming couple of the team and then he can’t even fix his own ‘relationship’ issues.

Bilbo wants to apologize, but even from watching the younger man there is something quiet, restless. Maybe it’s the way his thin fingers drum against the back of _Catch-22_ , and his brow has a permanent tick. 

“Bilbo.” Ori startles him from the world of Mr.Darcy on the fourth evening of their stagnant motel room living.

“Hmm?” He looks up from his second reread (In the last twenty days) of _Pride and Prejudice_. The younger man’s face is the pinnacle of innocence with wide brown eyes, and a little quirky smile. First warning sign. 

“Want to go somewhere? You know, after the team meeting.”

Bilbo tilts his head. “Go…where?” 

Ori shrugs and stands, he starts rummaging through his satchel until he pulls out a dark blue sweater, it is very nice, Bilbo wants to know where he got it. 

“This city is small but I’m sure we can find something to do, anything but just-” He waves a thin arm in a circle in the direction of the next room. “Sitting around like a bunch of old men in a pity party.” Ok, that sort of made sense.  
Bilbo was just glad to still be included in something, maybe Ori wants to find a record shop, or a book store, or a decent restaurant with tender medium rare steak smothered with a secret gravy sauce. “Alright just, not another bar please.”

“I’m a college student who hasn’t been to university for a good year with a respectable double major and a 3.9 GPA, we are not going to a dingy old bar by ourselves. Just come on, get dressed into something else.”

Bilbo chose one of his least wrinkled( But still crumpled and creased) button ups and all he had were motorcycle jeans.

“Well then what are we waiting for? We’ve got another team meeting of just sitting around glaring at each other, except for Nori and Bofur they’ll be trying to seduce each toher with terrible facial expression.” Bitter Ori is a snippy and interesting Ori.

That’s right, lately they haven’t been moving much because the team meetings have included Nori snapping, Thorin ordering things, Gloin disagreeing, Dwalin agreeing with Thorin, Oin agreeing with Gloin, Fili and Kili trying every once in a while, Balin being common sense for only so long, and then Bofur of course secretly trying to placate Nori by not so secretly whispering to him things that make Nori gain a more predatory smirk. And then everyone feels a little more awkward, at least Bilbo does. And Bilbo would sit trying to shrink himself away from the problems the last few days’ incidents have created.

"Ori what am I still doing here?” Bilbo and Ori must be the last two to head to the close by dingy waffle place, that Oin has some strange taste for, because they are the only two walking the sidewalk.

"You want to be right?” Bilbo nods. “Well then I think that’s good enough.”

Ori should be some eccentric philosophical English professor who studies minimalist styles such as Hemingway. He will be in this romance novel Bilbo lost his drive for, it’ll come back and he will write more than a couple hundred words on random pieces of paper he finds.

The same old faded sign comes to view ‘Palace of Waffles’, two days of having ‘dinner’ here. Same yellow inside of the restaurant with the smell of burnt bacon just sitting in the air above their heads. Most of the team is there with their drinks, Bifur is the only one with a glass of milk.

Bilbo takes the empty chair next to Fili ,and Ori sits on Bilbo’s other side and a waiter comes up half of his attention on his pocket(must be a cell phone in there, how rude) and the other half asking what they want to order.

“Oi, Dwalin pass the salt.”

“No.”

Seems Dwalin and Nori are still not seeing eye to eye. 

“You asshole. Someone pass me the fucking salt.”

Dori reaches over and passes the salt to his brother, still trying to steep his tea darker color than the muddy brown.

This time for sure, the waffles have to decent. After he orders, the usual discussion starts with Gloin mentioning the trickling down of the sponsorship money Gandalf had leant them. Bilbo feels a quick nudge of an elbow in his side.

He turns to his assailant, the blond Durin. “Yes?”

“You and Ori are dressed up.” Fili leans in close enough that Bilbo can see the little flecks of grey in blue irises.

“As best as we could, yeah.”

“Kili and I noticed- going somewhere?”

Bilbo looks away from the prying expression to buy an excuse, across him is Thorin with his normal deadpan glower being a distraction without trying, he returns back to Fili.

“Possibly,” He tries to remain vague because he doesn’t know if Ori wants anyone else to know about their apparent adventure. 

“Good cause Kili and I are bored so we’re joining you.”

“What?” Bilbo struggles to keep his voice lower, “you can’t just invite yourselves-“

“We should talk about this later uncle looks like he’s going to gut me, and I like my intestines inside, you know.” And the golden Durin leans back, he smirks at his Uncle, and Bilbo assumes it was supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just looks like a lion’s grin.

“We’re not talking about this lat-“

“Your food’s getting cold Bilbo,” Fili says loudly.

“Excuse me-“

“Neither one of you have eaten yet.” Thorin says his own plate is halfway clear. How could he enjoy the food here?

Bilbo glances at his unappealing banana foster and waffles, the sauce is not supposed to be _that_ brown. “That’s because we were just having a simple conversation.” He ignores Fili’s jab, the boy dug his own hole anyways.

“About what?” Dark blue eyes dart between the nephew and the shortest biker.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.” This is the first time Thorin has spoken to him more than two words since the Smaug incident. Yes he will revel in it a little bit, he saw the way that frosty haired waitress was looking at his raven locked biker the other day.

“You could be hiding things.” Thorin says voice strung taut. Bilbo clenches his fists, so it’s going to be held over his head again? 

“Oh please it’s nothing so dramatic.” He scoffs.

“This isn’t Earl Grey,” Dori says from his seat after his first sip.

“You can’t expect fancy tea at this place.” Nori rolls his eyes at his brother.

“Well then why do we come? Each meal the tea has been absolutely terrible- no Bifur I do not want to order their milk you think all the milk is decent.”

“Oin likes the ham and waffles.” Gloin puffs up.

“Those aren’t real-“

“So you’re just asking because you’re afraid I’m corrupting Fili with my evil traitorous ways.” Bilbo snaps. No one’s going to defend him here, they’re all busy fighting over drinks, really now.

“Amongst other things,” Thorin goes back to cutting his clearly dry slab of beef. Bilbo goes to start cutting his own waffle into ravaged blocks, he takes a bite and it’s drier than licked sandpaper. The sauce is too sweet and, yep it’s burnt. 

He gives up though still hungry- and downs the tar that is his coffee. Then he sits back in the wooden chair with his arms crossed petulantly. Hasn’t he done enough to prove himself before and after all of this? One betrayal and he’s dumped like a charred pastry in Otho’s diner. 

His mother would tell him to apologize, to own up to what he did and to defend himself. She would look at how he’s avoided every situation and say ‘Honey it’ll just keep coming back the more you hide. Just ask your father.’ And she would smile at him pink lipstick bright and comforting. 

He’s avoided; ever figuring out if he’s had a one-night stand with Nori, telling the team about a gold flag that could benefit them all, admitting that he’s the thief that everyone is after, and he hasn’t apologized for it. 

Bilbo relaxes his arms over his chest with a loud exhale. 

"Look I'm not saying what I did was justified," He kept his hands steady despite his slack shoulders. Bilbo looks up at Thorin who's arms are crossed and his gaze the most painful to not shrink from. "And I have no excuses, but know I never, I never did it to hurt you. Even if that's what happened, and I'm sorry.”

Oh now everyone pays attention, irritation prickles at his nerves.

“But that does not mean you all should be fighting amongst yourselves. So you lost flags, you still have that one, you can still race! Get more, we’ve been sitting around for four days and you can’t blame that on your hurt feelings."

"Is this a backhanded apology?” Gloin starts.

“No, I’m just saying the truth.”

“What do you propose then?” The team accountant leans his elbows on the cheep cherry wood table.

 

"There are other teams aren't they? There are other flags to get still? Go out and race, you know when I left my home, it was because something in you all compelled me to. Something much different than the way you are now.”

“And yet you still offer us insult.” Dwalin glowers at him, and Bilbo almost gives up when Ori pipes up with a glare at the muscled man.

“Let him speak.”

Bilbo takes a deep inhale and keeps going while the flame still breathes inside him. “It's not the end so stop letting your personal problems treat it like it is. I should know, I am the ultimate prevailer- is that a word? I suppose it is now anyways- of personal problems ruining my functionality in society and what I want to do, So dammit if you have a problem. Be civil like any other human being with the ability to think critically, which there aren't many but I believe in you all, and if all of your petty issues that are causing you to fight with each other are with me, then I can take it. " 

He can feel the hot blood in his cheeks, the adrenaline dies down within him and he huffs out the last few labored breaths. They were all staring at him like he had the audacity to yell at all of them at once, they must find him terribly arrogant.

"Oh dear I apologize I shouldn't have yelled at you like children that was terribly hypocritical and I-"

"Nothing you said isn’t true lad,” Bofur admits.

"Speak for yourselves," Nori mutters and then jumps when Dori pinches him.

Bilbo picks up a little steam. "Now what is the best way for you to get flags quickly?"

"Team races and betting," Dwalin answers and Bilbo feels his chest warm a bit because maybe he wasn't back to square one with the tattoo littered biker.

Bilbo tilts his head and gestures with his hands with a mild sweep. "Well then… who are the nearest teams here?"

"Well the Sons of Dale broke off from the Master's Guild, and they're the closest here." Balin explains.

"Then, what are you waiting for? How do you challenge them?"

"We send a message to Gandalf and he constructs it." The eldest biker concludes.

"Well go on then." Bilbo gives Thorin a pointed look, his arms are crossed and his chin tilts a little higher.

"And while you guys figure it out Bilbo and I will be out. Getting supplies. Look for us in a few hours, um we'll call you." Ori says as the waiter timidly drops the check on the table.

"We will?" Bilbo feels himself being tugged away and Ori looks determined to get them out despite the questions that arise from Dori's mouth.

"You're not still on about going out are you?" 

Ori wheels around "Yes."

"Why?" Bilbo tries not to whine, but things were just getting better.

"Because if we have a race it won’t be till at least tomorrow, and I'm bored." Ori taps something into his rather hi-tech cellphone. "I've got the nearest route, some place called Revolution, let's-"

"Revolution doesn't sound like a supply store."

"No it doesn't at all." Fili and Kili speak in a respective order from behind the two book lovers. 

"Do you want to come?" Ori asks exasperated. Both bothers grin and Bilbo sighs, seems like Fili got his way anyways. 

The city of Laketown is quite lively if not rather old and small. There were people everywhere, on the sidewalks, driving the streets and the night was nothing but more active for them it seemed. They rode alongside a decent amount of traffic, the smell of exhaust rancid and bitter in Bilbo's nose. 

Revolution is not a bookstore or a record shop. It’s a bright place with music leaking down the alley in the darkness of the evening. The bouncer cards Bilbo and Ori, and skips over Fili and Kili (The nerve) and inside is sweaty and packed and the bar has quite a few people nearby. There’s a bit of a stage and enough table tops that people in outlandish costumes were dancing atop of. They weren’t lacking clothes, and if they were they made up for it in the makeup applied.

“A gay club Ori?” Kili yells over the croons of dubstep trumpets.

“It was the closest place, but oh get over it half of our team is at least bisexual, have some fun.” Ori gestures to the bar.

“Jeeze now I see the Nori influence in you, at least we’ll have people paying for us instead,” Fili shrugs at his brother. Bilbo sticks close to Ori’s thin frame as they push their way to the blue topped bar. Kili orders a round of shots, with the money he dubiously has.

“For the buzz,” the brunette tilts the little blue glass, and the three younger men take it back. Bilbo stares at his. Ori then orders some pink liquid and takes no time in drinking it, his thin cheeks pink and smile sheepish when Fili and Kili congratulate him with pats on his back.

The bright lights contrasting with the dark salt and liquor tinged air make Bilbo nauseous. 

Dancing was more like awkwardly grinding in a strange protective sandwich until they get picked off one by one by some person of interest or some part of the entranced crowd, and Bilbo does get in the moment but there are incidents he’d rather not think about that drive him back to the bar, and then inevitably outside of the place itself. He’s forgotten his phone so he hopes that the other three just meet him outside eventually, his legs were wobbly and sore. Dancing is a younger Bilbo’s game.

Does Thorin dance? Fili and Kili were rather energetic and effervescent in their moves and they didn’t mind either gender so long as drinks were offered. But Bilbo couldn’t see Thorin in such a place even twenty years prior. 

Thorin looks like he’s around forty, well that doesn’t mean old he just looks good for his age, very good, well built-

“Ugh stop it.” Bilbo groans and hits the back of his skull against the concrete wall. “Ow.”

“Honey don’t do that, you’ll give yourself a concussion,” A flighty light voice pulls him out of his near obsessive thoughts. 

 

If there's one thing Bilbo learned from his debauchery filled days of college it's that Drag Queens love him. Maybe it's because they think he's playing polite, maybe he gives too much of a tip during a performance, or he's often half their size (especially with those formidable heels). But he finds himself most of the time covered in glitter, handed a dollar or two, kissed on the cheek, or all of the above.

That's why outside of the glitzy club he's loftily carried from the concrete wall to have a 'chat' with Ginger and Posh, both of who finished their performances not too long ago apparently.

And they towered over him even when sitting; two curvy coke bottles with big hair while he is a squat can with a donated icy hot for his head.

“I think you did the right thing by apologizing.” Posh said with crossed arms and a sage nod.

“Yeah dear, it may hurt but if you’re anything like you were tonight he’ll be missing out if he doesn’t forgive you- ah ah don’t move the icepack too much.”

“Sorry- but how do I-“

“Win that contest your were talking about.” Race, circuit, contest, _details- details_.

“And if that doesn’t work and you get banished, Billy, you can just come right to us until you’re ready to go back home. We know a good story or two about heartbreak. ”

“Uh thank you, that means a lot.” Bilbo smiles wide enough for the first time in a while, maybe he isn’t half as awkward as he believes to have been ninety nine percent of his life.

“Bilbo? Oh there you are.” Ori’s voice comes from the right and the young biker stumbles over, his face glistening with sweat and neat hair a wild mess. “I can’t find Fili or Kili and it’s pretty late we should probably leave soon.”

“Oh yes, well um maybe they’ll come out soon.”

“Good one of your dancer friends came back, see you later table top Billy(Bilbo groans at the nickname, he gets called up once, once!), remember, call us if you need us. Keep the glasses, really.” Ginger lands a kiss on Bilbo’s cheek, and Posh does the same before both stand on their four inch platforms, link arms and walk away with a little wave at Ori.

Thank every diety Ori doesn’t ask.

“Had fun tonight?” Bilbo notes the night sky is looking a little bluer, what time could it be by this point?

Ori sighs. “I don’t think I did it right.”

“Did, what right?”

“Did I ever tell you Dwalin stood me up on our second date, he explained that he couldn’t get out of work and that Dori would find out. But that maybe it was for the best, because maybe I would want someone not so connected to our team, someone more close to my age. Someone from the outside. I tried resisting, arguing with him, then subtlety being around him more often and he wouldn’t budge because he’s Thorin’s best friend and twenty years older than me and thinking of the whole damn team more than just himself. He thinks he’ll hold me back, so now I’m trying to see if- it just didn’t work.”

“Maybe then that means you should just tell him that it doesn’t, or make him come to you.”

“But how?”

Bilbo thinks back to his conversation with Dwalin, the biker was trying, he was, just not where it mattered.

“Give him time Ori.”

The other stays silent and just plops himself next to Bilbo on the sidewalk, his face vacant in the twilight.

Minutes of silence stretch between them.

Ori breaks it first, with a bit of a giggle. “You um, have a little lipstick on your cheeks.”

Bilbo glares half- heartedly at him, and starts to wipe his cheeks right as he’s tackled by a body that reeks of alcohol, and bare arms. It never ends.

“Bilbo! Ori, where have you two been?” It’s Kili’s sweaty arm that is hooked around Bilbo’s shoulders and Fili has his around Ori’s. Both have their leather jackets slung around their waists. 

“Out here waiting for you two.” Ori’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. Bilbo notes these three are the youngest, they must be the closest in some way.

“Oh that’s no fun, we’re hungry, there’s a diner over there let’s go eat, yeah?” Kili still speaks a mile a minute despite the alcohol that must be streaming through his system.

“Fine but we’re going to be so late, my phone is dead, I have no clue what time it is.” Ori agrees.

“Oh well, food first. C’mon Fee bring em,” Kili drags Bilbo in the direction across the street without so much as looking for traffic or heeding the smaller man’s protests. At least Fili was more quiet. “Bilbo you’ve got some purple smeared on your cheek there. What is that?”

Bilbo hates the high quality costume makeup of queens, it never comes off easily.

The diner’s food is ten times more satisfying than that terrible waffle place. But the four of them were really starting to crash from the alcohol, Bilbo could tell from the tired expressions and constant rubbing of temples. Ori at least had some stylish black sunglasses on.

“Here my, um, new friends gave me these left over from some festival night or something,” Bilbo pulled out five pairs of brightly colored cheap sunglasses from where Ginger and Posh stuffed his pockets in their own drunken insistence. Fili and Kili scrambled for them as the sun continues to rise through the big windows of the diner.

Thirty minutes of silent coffee and breakfast consumption in the clean half decent diner -it is occupied by some other party goers who look just as bad as them- and Kili’s phone rings.

“’Lo, hey Uncle- stop yelling- Fili’s phone died- yeah- Oh I dunno food- good food not waffles- yeah, race?- oh well we can kinda be read- yeah Bilbo’s here- and Ori- some place called Revolution- ok I’m going to hang up now-“ Kili hangs up when Bilbo knows Thorin was in mid sentence from the continued talking on the other line. The brunette leans his head on his brother’s shoulder.

A few minutes pass by.

“Kili,” Bilbo tries to have patience. “What was that?”

“We have a race with the Master’s Guild in like an hour and Uncle wants us by the bridge cause they have no clue where we are.” Fili answers, and Bilbo is not even going to try and explain that since Kili has been asleep since he hung up the phone. Instead he just pays their waitress, knowing that his poor card is being depleted, feeding Fili and Kili was not an easy gesture. 

“We should go then, oh god, how am I supposed to show up to Dori looking like this? What will he say, no I know he’s going to pick out everything from my hair to my sweater to my shoes that smell like beer,” Ori starts to pat his hair down in panic and tuck in his sweater.

“Ori calm down, we’ve got a race to win,” Fili shrugs his shoulder to jerk Kili awake and then set his hands on Ori’s shoulders from across the small table. “Now lets get up, get on our bikes, and take whatever comes at us.”

Ori nods chewing on his bottom lip.

Lake Town bridge has to be at least three miles long and it’s suspended over a rather large lake. Makes sense.

“And where have you four been?” Dori crosses his arms as they roll up, Ori is wearing his helmet, and somehow Fili and Kili still look like their normal feral gorgeous selves, which just leaves Bilbo and his face.

“Bilbo, the hell is on your cheeks?” The middle Rieve decides to point out. Bofur grins and pinches Bilbo’s face.

“Why I think that’s two different colors of lipsticks lads, our Bilbo had fun last night.”

“Stop stop they were just new friends, I did not have that type of _fun_ last night, I just was having a nice conversation.”

Dori hands Bilbo a handkerchief, it’s nicely embroidered, and turns back to his brother. “Ori take off your helmet.”

“Can’t might be racing.” The smallest Rieve answers before pushing his bike to the furthest point of the group, by Bombur.

“Quiet you all, the Guild is coming-“ Thorin pauses when he sees the neon colored sunglasses on his nephews and Bilbo, and of course Bilbo is now catching onto the glitter that sheens in the early rising sun. The raven haired man shakes his head and continues. “They get pick on who they challenge. If we win we get all their flags, if they win, we’re out.” 

 

The Master is a very large man, near the size of the Goblin’s leader, and his bike has strange exhaust pipes attached. His team is small and looks quite different, much thinner than him himself. The Erebor Riders bunch closer together, and Bilbo sees Dori reach for Ori’s helmet, that banter isn’t going to end it seems. 

“Well, so you do have a gold flag then Erebor Riders? And that’s it?” The Master laughs. “Should be simple then, I challenge your alleged thief, it will be a Three on three race.”

Bilbo sighs, yep, him, why him? Why not someone else? 

"I've raced in worse conditions before." Bilbo projects to himself.

"Have you?" Ori asks, sounding a little in awe over the raw hoarse tone in his voice.

"No. But I can try." His sunglasses will have to do instead of his goggles because the sun still hurts, his head is throbbing all over in no particular beat, but he hasn't raced in so long. And this Master is challenging him, because he's the he's the Stealth, and he made everything ten times harder for his team. He owes it to them.

"I'll race with you."

"No Ori you’re still injured and we don’t need another hungover team member on the road. I’ll race with Bilbo," Thorin’s bike glides next to the two. Bilbo peers at Thorin trying to deduce if this is a negative or a positive thing. The leader’s eyes look back, piercing even through the cheap lenses of Bilbo’s lime green sunglasses, cerulean stare unreadable as the oncoming dawn.

“I will be third then.” Dwalin rolls up as well, the dark red of his bike bleeds against the gunmetal prettily.

Bilbo finds himself next to Thorin at the start line of the bridge. He turns his head to Thorin, and tries to smile.  
"This won't be difficult." Thorin says without looking down at Bilbo. The honey haired Stealth nods and returns to looking at the long bridge before them.

"There and back again. Should be easy enough." 

The Master laughs from his large bike, next to him his much smaller partner smirks, and they wait for one of the Guild bikers to lower the signal.

Three, Two, One.

Go.

Flying without leaving the ground, Dwalin and Thorin were in tandem with him for every move. Dancing with bikes maybe? No that sounds too romantic, and he'd hate to get more hopeful. His mind is still wrapped around Thorin, but he's just too afraid to step up and actually and that in itself is dangerous. Too dangerous.

They come around to the halfway point and the Master and his 'lackeys' ( Who calls themselves the Master and isn't a narcissus and doesn’t deserve some strange nicknames for their lower status members?). He looks back again to check their opponent's positions and his bike wobbles a tad and Thorin signals for 'eyes ahead' with a thrust of two pointer fingers.

Right.

Really it was a race between Thorin, Dwalin and Bilbo, each of them kept peeling past the other. And part of Bilbo’s muddled mind tells him ‘Don’t lose you’ll never hear the end of it.’ The voice sounds vaguely like a Took. 

Facing back to the finish line of the bridge, the smooth grey road, he wonders why the Master asked for such an easy race? Did he get cocky? Is there something else.

But the sun is also rising, orange and white and tinting the clouds yellow on their lining. His body is warmed by the rays

He looks at his speed, he’s hit 80, oh and his gas is near E. Time to finish this.

Four hundred feet and Dwalin and Thorin are on either side.

“Give up lad,” Dwalin yells.

“Sorry can’t do that, Myrtle two won’t let me.” And he pushes two hundred feet.

Fifty and he’s doing a hundred.

He cuts the bike to slowing down as he crosses first.

He touches his head. “Oh my god I didn’t wear my helmet.”

Thorin and Dwalin pull in while he’s still in panic mode. And then the Master and his lackeys stop a few seconds later.

“Well you beat us Erebor Riders, take the flags.” The Master did not sound disappointed. A tall thin woman with short cropped hair hands them four blue flags. The Master’s Guild drives away without hesitance.

“That was odd.” Dwalin mutters.

“Hey hey! We’re back in lads!” Oin cheers, and Bilbo grins through the nostalgia of the team swarming around the three.

“Well Erebor Riders, across the bridge is the city of Dale and then the Lonely Mountain.” Balin gestures to the strip they just won the race on.

“Red Drake territory, but we’re almost there I can feel it.” Gloin revs his bike.

“Back to the motel then, we pack up to leave tonight.” Thorin orders. A little ding reminds Bilbo of something rather important. 

“I’ll meet you all back there, I’m going to make a stop”

“Need me to go with you?”

“No no, it’ll be quick I just need a bit of gas it’s alright Ori.” Bilbo reassures  
his friend as they start up to head back to Lake Town.

“Get back quickly,” Thorin says, and it sounds like concern and that’s enough to make Bilbo get all bubbly in the chest area.

 

 

He stops at a little red gas station along the main road. The gas prices were astronomical and his card is weeping from over exertion these past two days. 

He fills the tank noting there were a few other people at this hour of the morning, but not many. He waits for his receipt and it tells him the cashier has it. Oh bother, the blond checks his number and scurries into the small store.

From the cashier's seat behind the plexiglass window soft music wafts from the small speaker hole. The woman's voice is raspy, emotional-  
 _Regrets collect like old friends..._

He walks up and notes that the cashier isn’t at the window just yet.

“Bilbo Baggins,” A voices drawls his name like a slow hiss. Familiar, but not one he can place a name to. There is a presence just close enough to feel and he would prefer to just keep going and not turn around but that’s a very rude thing for a Baggins to do.

“Ah yes?” He faces the speaker light chuckle escaping his lips. The same biker from a few days before.

“That’s your given name right? Or do you prefer Stealth, Burglar, or Thief?” Smaug, with his cold blue eyes looks Bilbo up and down, expression gone from impassive to sardonic and rouge-ish. 

“Um, all of- none Bilbo is just fine, or I am the Stealth but, um now that you know it’s been nice chatting I have to go elsewhere, good day Mr. Smaug.” Bilbo decides the receipt isn’t worth it and tries to skirt around the other, the sliding glass doors are within sight as two shadows fall upon the clear material. Large figures with the same obnoxious red leather jackets stand in his pathway and he takes a step back.

“Oh dear,”

“I think I like Thief better, it goes well with your title, for all the trouble you’ve been causing me lately.” Smaug says as if he is exasperated by the thought of Bilbo’s existence.

Bilbo’s eyes dart around trying to find the best exit between three men who tower over him. “So are you going to beat me up for it? Break my bones? Kill me like you’ve done to people before?”

Why was no one calling for help? Isn’t his situation suspicious enough? Are they far in Red Drake territory?

Smaug’s eyes flash icy but his face remains impassive. “No, those things require an audience first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arc 2 is done! Woo seven chapters to go, and **I said I'd do fanfic trades, I have one slot left so if you're interested comment here or message me on tumblr. If we've already talked about trading fanfics well then prompt exchanges are happening now so if we haven't exchanged a prompt yet please comment so we can e-mail each other or reach me on tumblr!**
> 
> Anyone wanna guess how Bilbo is getting out of this now?
> 
> See you guys in a week!


	15. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bilbo's options are all unpleasant ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> So there many a reasons why this took so long. First I had an order of updating, then I got stumped when that took forever.  
> But beyond that, I can't promise weekly updates, but biweekly I can do, and I hate the idea of leaving such a cliffhanger ever again. 
> 
> As usual all mistakes are my own, I think I'm funna go on a beta search. This chapter switches between Ori and Bilbo.

**Silver**

Something dark is placed over his head, he’s jostled onto the back of a bike, and when it starts up, although his stomach clenches and he wants to run, he holds on to the sides for the kick off is quicker than he’s ever had, and unforgiving. Bilbo Baggins feels fear at this very moment.

\---

The first thing Ori notices is the time passage, An hour to get gas? One hour? It doesn't take that much time. Not even if all the lights stopped their Stealth in the process.

And he voices this concern to Dori. 

"It's been so long?" His older brother looks around the motel room Ori shared with his friend, Bilbo's things are still dormant on the hard mattress.

"You don't think the boy got lost? He’s rather irresponsible with the amount of drinking and running around he's partaken in these last few days.“ Dori has his admonishing voice on, the one that says he will be keeping as close an eye on Bilbo as he does with Ori.

“Not like this, he said he'd meet us here right after, Dori. I think something's wrong." Ori stuffs a sweater in his satchel and stands from his spot.

“And where are you going?” Dori echoes, still sounding uptight from Ori’s previous escapades.

"I'm going to go talk to Thorin," The youngest raises his chin.

"Alright I'll finish packing your things. I'll even pack Bilbo's for him." The silver haired biker readily agrees much to his sibling’s surprise.

Ori wrings his hands together after he exits the room. He knew he should have went with Bilbo.

 

\---  
Bilbo coughs, his lungs, heave and his throat has the texture of sandpaper. He's been staring at the same door for eternity, with no key, and no clue to where he is. 

\----

 

Ori stiffens under Thorin's careful gaze, but he didn't waver, sure he had interrupted some important meeting with the 'elder' bikers. But this was imperative to say in the brunette’s opinion.

"You haven't seen our Stealth at all?" Balin clarifies from the bed he is seated on with Gloin and Oin. Ori shakes his head in response. 

"So close to Fire Drake territory." Gloin mutters, as if he suspected all along something would happen.

"But the Drakes haven’t patrolled their borders in years, we hardly see them outside the last race.” Oin gestures the pen he was using to demonstrate.

"All the more reason to find out what is going on. We may need another night here. Dwalin you're with me, we will go looking for Bilbo, if he got lost we can bring him back. If he didn't there is no use in leaving him somewhere where the Fire Drakes could have had a hand in it."

“Balin let the team know what’s going on, we may need you as backup.” Thorin orders as he shoves a cellphone in his pocket.

 

"They've always been a seedy bunch." Dwalin says as he stands up right and follows Thorin out the door. And Ori follows them with no hesitation.

 

Ori straddles his bike.

"We may run across Fire Drakes lad, you shouldn't come with your sprain." The muscular biker suggests.

"Bilbo's my friend as well, I'm not staying back." The youth responds.

"I'm just lookin out fer-"

"Well don't I'm an adult Dwalin , remember that." Ori snaps much harsher than he intends. And the older man has a stunned expression. "I'm sorry, it's been- long. I'd hate to think something happened and he thinks we've abandoned him." 

"We haven't abandoned him. We will find where Mister Baggins has gone." Thorin states.

“You lot are really trying to run off without the rest of us.” Nori sighs from behind feigning disappointment.

“All of us were threatenin’ to come but, you know wouldn’t exactly be the fastest recovery mission.” Bofur, 

“And how did you find out so fast exactly?” Thorin doesn’t hid ehis displeasure.

“I have my ways.” Is all Nori answers as he starts up his bike.

 

Thorin glares at the couple and Bifur, Ori hides a snicker. Bifur signs ‘You’re less likely to screw up with us there.’

 

“Bif’s right, face it Ori’s prolly the best one with sense.” The middle Rieve jokes as he snaps on his sunglasses.

“If you’re done insulting us, get on your bikes so we can ride out.” Thorin growls at Nori.

They streamline into the streets, staying two by two in the lanes of the city, evening time means more traffic than usual to manage and it takes enough time to make Ori’s palms go sweaty for them to reach the gas station Bilbo mentioned.

 

And Ori knows it is too obvious, it’s too convenient that Bilbo’s silver vehicle resting at the pump untouched. They pull up to the sides and Nori is the first to say anything.

“Think he’s getting another chocolate bar?” The red head shrugs.

 

\---

White fills in a rectangular shape from the door and Bilbo has to scrunch up his face until his nose wrinkles. A plastic bag is tossed at him.

"So tell me about yourself thief, you're going to be here a while either way."

Bilbo just looks at the lukewarm bag, and then glares hotly at Smaug. The biker is leaning against the door, lax, as if he isn't threatened by the prospect of Bilbo escaping.

"Zipped lips?" Smaug's eyes become half lidded.

Bilbo's frown tightens. "Keeping me here isn't right." Bilbo challenges all while he watches the threatening figure before him.

"Letting you go isn't right either, and your pathetic team wlll have to deal with that."

"If our team is so pathetic, why not race us the fair way?"

Smaug barks a cold laugh. "Where did they find you? You talk just like them about honor, but this is an illegal race, it's a gamble, with a large prize at the end. There is nothing noble about this, The Erebor Riders pretend to be above everyone because of pride, not for an actual cause, and that's why they continue to lose. They're not clever enough to figure out what's really going on underneath." 

\---

 

Thorin comes storming out of the convenience store with fists clenched and shoulders hunched just a fraction. His face is like stone again, etched with every emotion he's trying to hold back. 

"The cashier claims to not have seen much."

Bifur signs ‘They’ve been paid off then?’

"They can't deny the lads bike is here." Bofur twists the handles of the bike. 

“We’re gonna have to call Fili and Kili to come pick it up for now. They’ve got the master key.” Thorin is already taking out his cellphone.

"Why'd they take just Bilbo, why not the bike as well? They’ve always been after our stuff." Dwalin continues his arms crossing square against his chest.

"They don't need the bike, they just need him there, to keep him from us." Ori theorizes. Ori doesn't want to ask what they think will happen to Bilbo but this is the first time in a while a member of their team has been singled out.

“Anything goes with those kind of statements.” Nori runs a hand through his messy locks. “Well any ideas?”

“We can retrace some of our steps from last night, see if anyone knows anything, they might have just left him in an alleyway.” Best case scenario Ori surmises.

\---

 

The sandwich they gave him looks harmless enough, the room he using has no windows, just a bed and a chair; there’s no fan so it is musky and a little hot from under his collar. All he wants is a key, something, he keeps hoping that time has had enough passage, that soon the Erebor Riders will burst through, maybe Thorin will come in with a large machine gun, some model Bilbo isn't familiar with, and in all black, hair blowing, and he will pick up Bilbo and-

Bilbo Baggins you are under a delusion of hunger, he scolds. His mind tells him to eat the sandwich, because his situation won't change from striking. 

It's dry after the first bite, and just ham and cheese, there's nothing wrong with it, and for some reason that brings bitterness to his throat. The last few days have been a torment he hasn't been pulled through so many writer ideal emotional situations ever. He clenches the bread hard enough to poke holes through the soft white cushion, takes another bite and his appetite is run from him, sapping the hunger from his stomach. He tosses the sandwich in the same direction he tossed the plastic bag at Smaug earlier.

The honey haired man stands, kicks the wall with his boot and then leans his back against it, hands to his forehead. An irritating feeling swims in his head, chest, and palms. A useless feeling.

 

\---

 

Ori first spots the two tall drag queens from the previous night, they’re wearing tight plastic looking dresses that cut off well above the knee, and hard to miss platform shoes as bright as their hair. 

He cuts the motorcycle down the street of the club knowing one of his team-members will take the hint and follow.

“Excuse me, ladies, I just have a quick question for you,” Ori pulls off his helmet to make himself more recognizable, He notices their eyes drift over the bike, and trail on him. One takes on a coquettish little smile that nearly makes him blush.

“I remember you, you’re Billy’s dancing fiend of a friend.” One with the orange wig motions with a hand for him to come closer, and he cuts off his bike ignoring the questions that leave his brother’s mouth hushed.

“Yes, we were wondering, if you have seen or heard from him in the last hour or so? You see Bilbo was supposed to be getting gas and he never showed up again.” 

"Sorry, not we haven't seen the little honey since last night? Is he ok?" The other, Spice maybe? No it was a type of Spice, Ginger.

“We hope so,” Ori glances over at his teammates, who aren’t speaking but more of staring around possibly imagining Bilbo was going to pop out of the nightclub’s door in a similar outfit and end all of their problems.

But raise so many more questions.

"Al-Alright thank you, if you happen to run across him tell him that we're still at the motel." 

"Oh don't you worry, we will," Ginger’s partner says, Ori can hardly remember their names, though 90s pop comes to mind. "So long as he wants us too, he was upset with some broody mister hunk before, we wouldn't want to do anything against our dear Billy’s wishes. " 

The queens glance at Thorin as if Bilbo had done such a great job half drunk in describing the gang leader..

"Right, thank you lades." Ori smiles even at the coos the two tall performers deliver, and with their arms hooked, they sashay their way towards Revolution.

“You know them?” Nori asks with a raised eyebrow, Bifur and Bofur have equal expressions of amusement and curiosity.

“Well Bilbo does, he made friends with them last night when we all came here for just a little drink.” Ori slips back on his helmet, with the lenses still up.

"That's where you were last night, what’s this about dancing fiend?"

"He was complaining about me to them-" Dwalin and Thorin interject respectively. Ori just smiles with a little shrug.

"Lets go we should try and find the Guild members." He pulls down the visor to his helmet and kickstarts his sport bike once more. At this rate, they’re going to have to get their enemies to talk.

 

\---

Smaug returns soon after Bilbo becomes hungry again. Albeit this time without any food, just a bottle of water that is set by Bilbo’s side. The man moves closer until his frame is just a breadth away from Bilbo, forcing the shorter man to look up at the visage so close to him.

There’s something teasing him.

“They’re going to come looking for me.” He challenges.

Bilbo shoves Smaug out of his face wanting to wipe the smug curve of his enemy's lips away. 

"Cold hearted Thorin come searching for you? An outsider, but why would he?"

“He would.” Bilbo vouches with as much confidence as he can muster."What do you even know about him?"

"Only what I've seen, and I think I know him even better than you."

"Shut up," Bilbo’s trying to not think of the burden he’s become, the trouble he’s gotten them in, how he doesn’t know where he stands with Thorin anymore.

"No." The coy look drops, leaving behind a stone expression. "Thorin Durin was a demon on the track, always has been, don't delude yourself in thinking he wouldn't have done the same thing, givin' the resources. This isn't a race, it's war, on that has been going on for twenty years." Smaug grabs Bilbo's chin with a forceful grip, nothing is readable in his sharp eyes.

"I just happen to have a bargaining chip, the upper hand."

Bilbo's jaw begins to cramp beneath the hard grip.

"What they didn't tell you the history of this circuit? Oh you look lost and naive Mr. Baggins. You are soft, not a lick of strength in you, I can tell who you are from your eyes, and I can tell they did not trust you. Why fight for someone who doesn't trust you? Don't say a silly thing like love, it will only amuse me further."

Bilbo grits his teeth, taking deep breaths through his nostrils, straying into silence. Blood pounds a harsh rhythm in his ears. He instead uses his nails to claw at the man's wrist.

"Silent again," Smaug shoves Bilbo away, and the blond refuses to rub at his jaw though it bruises and blooms with pain. "You're a clever one, even if I can read your face like a book. Let me tell you something little Bilbo," Smaug towers over him long limbed and the shadow cast gives him no reprieve. 

"You will not leave this room until I say so, you will stay here and tremble helpless. For there is only one way out, and one key. And I have it, and if you cross me, I won't hesitate to torture you, I can melt your flesh off with a little flame, not enough to kill maybe send you into shock, and if by some chance you continue to defy me in a foolish attempt to escape, I will break your arms, if you die from it, well that's an unfortunate accident."

Bilbo sucks into his lungs, and he just snaps. "You are a murderer aren't you, you killed Thorin's brother? All for a little money at the end?"

"Yes, for money, for power, gold and powerful machines." The sharp lines on the Red Drake's face are cloy and menacing. "I made an attempt on his life, shame there wasn't a body I could stand over, he should have accepted my offer."

Smaug pauses at the door and looks at Bilbo, it’s long quiet consideration. "You want fair _Bilbo_ , I have an offer for you, you can stay here and wait to be rescued, or we can play a little game. You have until tomorrow afternoon to decide. Then I can tell you the terms"

Bilbo wants to dry heave just to clear the onslaught of thoughts in his mind. Should he play a game with a dragon?

\---

 

They travel until they reach the bridge, and it’s half through to dusk, the sky is dark purple and blue, and the lights are bright.

“We’re going to Dale,” Thorin tells them, his patience is wearing thin, Ori can estimate that much.

“We need to figure out where the Master’s Guild is hiding.” The youngest of the bunch suggests.

“I may have a contact or two, good contacts don’t worry,” Nori’s grin is sharp as a cat’s.

Thorin nods at him and Ori’s brother is leading them across the space and into a territory all too familiar.

The City of Dale is a metropolis run by the darker sides. Ori is sure at one point the city was bright and beautiful, an urban utopia but now with the spread of territories and constant gang conflict the night is nothing too pleasant.

He makes sure to keep up with his group as they pass through some of the seediest streets and alleys. 

Another bar this time, there are a multitude of bikes parked there, over a good dozen, all different brands as if they’re not supposed to mesh there. Nori wedges them near the back of the bar lot. 

Ori tucks his helmet under his side. “So who’s your contact?”

“His name’s Bard, he owes me a few things, many a favors actually.” Nori winks at them and steps through the doors with ease, even nodding at the bartender as they pass through the dimly lit place.

Nori sidles up in a seat next to a surly looking young man with dark waves that just brush past his shoulders and umber eyes. 

“Nori,” The solemn man greets and offers a beer to the red head. He glances up at the rest of the Erebor Rider’s with Nori. “With company. Pull up a couple chairs.” He motions to one of his older companions and stools are being dragged over.

Ori finds himself sandwiched between Bifur and Dwalin, with a cheap lager in hand.

“Come for a favor?” Bard seems like the time to cut straight to the point.

“Only one I know you’ll enjoy. We’re trying to find the Master’s Guild.” Nori informs him. And that gains a sparked attention from Bard.

“Why?”

“We raced them yesterday, and won of course, but after that one of our members went missing, and we think he knows where they are.”

“Missing after a race?” Bard raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like they’re kind of business.” He mutters.

“We can take you there. You’re gonna need more than just a few at his hideout. Their names have more power than the Erebor Riders here.” Bard sets down his empty beer bottle and motions with three fingers towards the door. His motley crew stands, and Ori has never felt more relieved for Nori’s weird habits and trades till now.

“How’d ya get them to owe yah?” Bofur leans in close to Nori as he gladly takes Bifur’s beer as well, already halfway through it.

“I gambled a little, half drunk and with less clothing than I’d like I was lucky the Master sucks at poker. Got the Sons of Dale to break off the Guild.”

“Well that’s…good.” Bofur grins and nuzzles a quick kiss to Nori. 

Ori pretends to not hear Dwalin’s grumblings about Nori’s methods behind him.

 

\---

Bilbo curls up on the floor of the room, it’s cool even through his jacket at this time. His stomach groans, there were no other meals dropped off for him, and Smaug’s offer swims in his head. He hasn’t been much of a gambler, but he wonders, if he plays this game, what happens if he loses.

Unconsciously he reaches his hands into the inside lining of his jacket, and his hand meets the zipped pocket. He forgot he kept the key, his token of thievery, in that pocket after all that was going on last night. He pulls it out and stares at the smooth surface, a little etching is under the old surface, and he starts to scrape the dirt away.

There’s a jiggle at his room door knob, form the other side. It forces him up in alert, hope and fear swells at the bottom of his throat as the sound continues. But then it stops, and there are footsteps, just one pair of feet, and silences continues for ten minutes.

It wasn’t them, but who was it?

\--

Bard is true to his word, The Master’s Guild is parked at the master’s apparent bar located at the edge of Lake Town, as if he’s creeping his power into Dale. Ori swallows a little gulp of hesitance because even with their numbers there are quite a few guild member’s parked at the bar.

“So how are we going about this plan exactly? Are we gonna sneak in the back? Maybe a window or something,” Bofur voices just finishing the beer he took from Bifur.

“The front door.” Bard answers without much of a glance, he leads his group of men towards the entrance, Thorin is at his side without doubts, and Ori feels a pat on his shoulder.

“Right, my mistake, that obviously the best plan to get a broken nose or worse,” Bofur complains even when Nori jabs him in the side.

“Stick close to me.” Dwalin looks down at him, it’s almost a plead and Ori wants to defy it, but his wrist tingles a little at the thought.

“Ok,” he agrees, and the lines in Dwalin’s face relax.

Walking in has an instantaneous effect, they’re glared and at watched carefully under the ambience of liquor, Ori guesses that depending on how much the other bikers have consumed, the odds might be in their favor. The wooden floors don't feel too sticky, and there are plenty of exits, but he doesn't feel any more comfortable.

The Master is seated at the head of his bar, and his face darkens, malevolent, when he spots them. Under the shine of the florescent light he is pinked and values cast in each crease of his large face. 

‘Well, isn’t this a party of misfits and rejects.” The Master lets out a dark piggish chuckle. Ori wants to punch him in the throat. The fat man falters when he looks at Bard’s expressionless face.

“We need to know where Bilbo Baggins is.” Thorin’s words are growled out with little patience.

“Who, that’s a funny name?” The Master takes a long gulp of his drink, and wipes the side of his mouth. “I don’t have a clue who you’re talking about.”

"Where is our Stealth, I know you know, he's small, kicked yer arse yesterday in the race,” Dwalin demands.

“I’ve been paid to keep silent, what can you offer me?” The Master can barely get the words out before both Nori and Thorin are on him. The Guild members move but they are too slow for the knife at the Master’s throat and Thorin’s standing over him arms crossed, natural in this situation.

“You’re a greedy bastard, we’re offering your life for whatever you know.”  
The red head biker grins predator like. Sweat begins to stream and collect on the Master’s pallid face. He waves a discouraging signal to his team.

"The Fire Drakes have em, at the factory, I don’t know which, or where. That’s all.” 

Thorin lets go of the his grip on the large man's shirt, he looks to be resisting delivering another punch out. Instead their leader looks over to Nori and nods for him to let go. The Master sputters.

“You think Smaug will just let you walk in? He’ll kill him before that, then you.” The fat man sputters out.

"I think I know where that is," Bard interjects over the large man’s threat. "We may be able to find your friend, It won't be easy."

"We will go there anyways." Thorin commands he turns back to the Master, who looks at him still smug despite the shock evident on his face. Ori certainly didn’t see the punch coming, but he is rather glad Thorin delievers such a strong left hook, that left the larger man’s head snapping back.

“Well shit Thorin couldn’t have waited till a better time?” Nori curses and he’s the first to sprint towards the exit as the sluggish drunk hostiles try to close in on them, 

Dwalin punches a man in the jaw as he comes at them with a blade, and Ori kicks another’s gut when he tries to attack Dwalin from behind.

“Don’t go after them! They’re Smaug’s to deal with.” Ori hears the Master yelling as they exit.

 

"Red Drake territory, the nasty buggers will be around everywhere." Bard says "borrow a couple of my men's helmets it'll help you blend more. All the teams are gonna be headed here soon. Dale is a last stop as you know."

"I truly hope your friend isn't with Smaug too long, he's gotten more insane as the years have gone," The dark haired young man adds. “Next time, though, you may not be so lucky to pull a move like that on the Master.”

Ori takes a few deep breathes, his teammates don’t look too determined under the lampposts and bar sign lights. 

‘He’s going to know we’re coming,’ Bifur signs at Ori. ‘Bilbo’s just the bait.’ Ori doesn’t nod, but can’t deny that thought either.

The youngest starts up his engine violently. It’s his fault, he didn’t just go with Bilbo when he knew he should have.

 

\---

Morning came, and Bilbo’s eyes were heavy, he couldn’t have fell asleep long, his body ached against the hard floor. The door swings open with ease and he looks up at his tormenter.

“Stand up Mr. Baggins, are you ready to hear my proposal?” Smaug orders and he continues speaking as Bilbo pushes himself off the ground. "You and me Mr. Baggins a game of cat and mouse. You on foot. Me on my bike. If I catch you it's my terms, if I don't you are free. There’s only city and back woods around here.”

A chance of freedom, it sounds too easy, and all too complex. How is he going to outrun a motorcycle? But if he goes to the woods- he doesn’t know this area at all.

 

"I choose the game." He resists a flinch when a smirk stretches across Smaug’s face. "You have five minutes to find your way out of here. Starting now.” The tall man steps to the side and gestures to the warehouse.

And Bilbo is let out of his cage and into a labyrinth, it looks like an old factory., not aged from the sixties, but small enough to see a great portion and large enough to get lost. They look to be unused, most of the belts, and lines, the shelves familiar, and a few of the walls are hastily covered up with large squares made of the same fabric. It’s an abandoned workshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this felt like a bunch more doors were opening up rather than wrapping up, you would be correct, I mean there are still six more chapters after all. *cackles*
> 
> I wanna hear some theories,  
> who was that messing with the door knob at the factory?  
> Will the game actually happen?  
> What is Smaug really playing at?  
> Will Thorin and Co get there in time?  
> What about the rest of the company what are they up to?
> 
> I like conversation, and it's been so long I feel like I should add something, if you want any backstories (like Bard meeting Nori or Smaug's POV) drop a comment, or message me on tumblr and I'll type up a quick drabble to put in the oneshot collection.
> 
> Otherwise see you next time. And thanks for all the kind feedback, comments, and kudos.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Feedback is always appreciated!  
> **  
>  I do not own the Hobbit, nor the movie, those belong to awesome people I wish to reincarnated as, if time wasn't linear.


End file.
